A Certain Amount of Sense
by Insper A. Shen
Summary: Hermione has a plan to help Harry but needs Snape's approval. Can she get him to teach her Occlumency? And why is Draco looking at our heroine like that? Eventually HG/SS with a helping of HP/GW and OotP spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Got this idea after finishing OotP and had to see if I could do it justice.  It's my first HP fan fiction, actually, second fan fiction ever, so it's probably going to have a lot of bumps that need smoothing out.  If anyone is interested in beta-ing future chapters, please let me know.  Obviously, I don't own any of the characters; wouldn't know what to do with them if I did.  Hmmm, actually, Draco I might know what to do with. =P

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Chapter 1

        "Really, Professor, it's the only way, don't you think?  I mean, since Harry won't, and I doubt you want to anymore, but if I could instead and then….  Professor?"

        Severus Snape closed his eyes and rubbed the area between his brows.  When he opened his eyes, the droning had stopped, but Hermione was still there, looking at him quizzically.

        "Professor, did you hear what I said?"

        "Yes, Miss Granger, I did."

        "Oh.  Well, then, what do you think?"

        "Miss Granger, a request such as the one you made requires more than the twelve seconds you allowed me to answer.  Now kindly _sit down_ and allow me to _think_, without interruption."

        Hermione's eyes widened at the abusive tone he had suddenly adopted and backed away from the desk.  She stepped backwards without turning, sitting down abruptly as her calves hit the chair behind her.  She landed on her bottom with a gasp but did not remove her gaze from her Potions teacher.  He was resting his elbows on his desk with his eyes closed once again, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

        Snape was conflicted.  While there weren't many things he would like less than to spend additional time with this insufferable know-it-all, he had to admit that what she had suggested made a certain amount of sense.  It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

        Finally, he sighed and looked up.  

"Miss Granger, before I can seriously consider your request, I have a few questions for you."  He could see her swallow before she nodded.  "Does the headmaster know about this?"

"Not yet, sir.  I mean, I would have asked him first, of course, but I can't seem to find him.  I've been…."

Severus waved his hand to dismiss her excuse.

"Miss Granger, if we are to proceed you must learn to answer my questions directly and cease with your insipid babbling.  Do you understand?"

        Once again she nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

        "Good.  Now my next question.  Does Potter know of your _ingenious_ idea?"  Hermione had heard Snape belittling the Gryffindors in Potions class long enough to recognize the sarcasm in his voice.

        "No, sir, I…." Hermione started to explain, but remembered his words and thought better of it.  She clamped her mouth shut instead and looked down at her clasped hands as Professor Snape sneered at her.

        "No one ever said you were the smartest in your class without reason."  As soon as he had said the words, he regretted them.  Hermione had looked up at him quite suddenly, her mouth forming a small "o".  

Before she could look too pleased with herself, Snape continued.

        "Seeing as how neither Dumbledore nor Potter know of your scheme, I will have to assume that this was entirely your idea."

        "Yes, sir, it is."

        "And have you thought through the consequences of what this plan would entail if I agreed?"

        "Yes, sir, I have."

        "Well?"

        "Sir?"

        "Miss Granger, you are sorely trying my patience."

        "But, sir…."

        "And knowing this, you _continue_ to interrupt me!"  Professor Snape suddenly stood up and leaned forward on his desk to emphasize his point.  "Miss Granger, if I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to convince me to deny your request!" he said silkily.

         Hermione could feel her heart pounding, her breath growing faster.  More than anything she wanted to stand up and shout back at him, but she knew that would get her nowhere with him.  And she desperately needed his permission to proceed.  She concentrated on calming herself, knowing that this was part of what she would have to learn, if only he would agree.

        Snape smiled inwardly as he recognized what she was doing.  He had meant for the last outburst to be a test of sorts—to see if she could do what Potter could not.  Satisfied, he sat down again and reached for a quill and scroll.

        "One point to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for control of temper."  He saw the gleam of triumph in her eyes and continued.  "However, before I commit to anything, I will require you to do some research on the subject, something which I believe you are quite capable of doing?"

        "Oh, yes, sir.  I've already searched the library for anything on the subject, but…."

        "The reason, Miss Granger, that you were not able to find the proper resources, is because the only books that relate to this topic are found in the restricted section."

        "Oh."

        "As such, I will write you a pass for Madam Pince, which will allow you access to the proper books.  I trust that you will be able to keep your hands and eyes out of those _not_ on this list?"

        "Yes, sir.  Of course, sir."  Hermione found it hard to return his stare, wondering if he knew what had happened the last time she had been allowed into the restricted section.

        "Very well, Miss Granger.  I will expect you to return a week from today, at which time I will assess if you are, in fact, worthy of my time and effort."

        "Yes, Professor.  Thank you, Professor."

        Severus watched as the girl reached for the slip of parchment he handed her and exited the classroom as quickly as she could without actually running.  When he was certain that she was gone, he allowed himself to lean back in his chair.  He raised his arms and clasped them behind his head.  Those who knew him well (except that there weren't any) would recognize that the expression on his face was not the grimace expected, but in fact, one of resignation and determination, laced with the slightest glimmer of interest.  For it would seem, that in a week's time, he would no doubt be teaching Hermione Granger, Gryffindor prefect and Muggleborn friend of Harry Potter, the arts of Occlumency.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

        As soon as the door behind her was shut, she leaned back against it, smiling with relief. The hardest part was over. Now all she had to do was bring the subject up with Harry. While she had been rather unsure of how Snape would react to her idea, she knew Harry would understand. He had to. It made so much sense, really. She would get Snape to teach her the art of Occlumency and in turn, she would teach Harry. She figured Harry's aversion to Occlumency was akin to Neville's chronic difficulty in Potions. It was all due to Snape's teaching methods. And surely she of all people would be able to learn this new subject and teach it to Harry, just as he had taught the DA what he knew of DADA.  
  
On her way back to the Gryffindor tower, she glanced at the note that Snape had written.  
  
_Madam Pince:  
  
Please allow Miss Granger access to the following books in the Restricted Section:  
  
Legilimency for Squibs  
The Muggle's Guide to Occlumency  
  
Signed,  
  
Prof. Severus Snape_  
  
Hermione stifled a giggle. Over the summer Ron had sent her similar books entitled "The Muggle's Guide to Quidditch" and "Quidditch for Squibs" with a note attached that read:  
  
_Dear Hermione,  
  
I saw these in the bookstore and thought of you. Not that I think you're a Muggle and you're definitely not a Squib, but I know you don't really like Quidditch, and well, maybe these books will help you appreciate the sport better.  
  
Anyways, I hope you're having a great summer. I miss you,  
  
Ron  
  
P.S. By "you" I mean a plural you, as in I miss you and Harry. Just thought I should make that clear._  
  
She had rolled her eyes at the postscript; she didn't know how much longer she could stand Ron acting like such a prat. Last year she had been so sure he would have made some sort of move, especially after the whole spectacle with the Yule Ball and Victor Krum, but nothing. Even little Ginny Weasley was getting more action than she was. Afterwards, she had skimmed through the books before giving them to her father, knowing he would appreciate them far more than she.  
  
By the time she returned to the Common Room it was too late to talk to Harry. She went up to her own bedroom, figuring she could just tell him tomorrow during breakfast. Even though she was excited, she tried to relax and concentrate, emptying her mind of all emotion, as she had been practicing ever since she had thought up of the idea.  
  
***  
  
The next morning she made her way down to breakfast with Harry and Ron. Now that it was time to actually approach Harry with her idea, she was starting to get a little nervous. It was possible that he would continue to stubbornly hold his grudge against Snape and refuse to see the logic in her plan.  
  
Ron noticed her quietness and asked, "What's wrong with you, Hermione? You haven't said a word all morning."  
  
"Well, it's just that I have something important to ask Harry."  
  
"What is it, Hermione?" The two continued to alternatively smother their toast with gummiberry jam and stuff it into their faces, not bothering to even look up at her. She looked down at her plate and played around with the remains of her scrambled eggs.  
  
"Well…. I was thinking about last year and how Voldemort was able to enter you head, Harry." Ron cringed as usual at her liberal use of the Dark Lord's name, but otherwise kept chewing. Harry, on the other hand, had put down his toast and was looking at Hermione thoughtfully.  
  
"And I know that you refuse to learn Occlumency from Professor Snape, so-I-thought-that-maybe-he-could-teach-me-instead-and-then-I-could-teach- you," Hermione mumbled quickly. When she was finished, she took a deep breath, sat back, and waited for Harry's response.  
  
Before Harry could say anything, however, Ron choked on his food, coughing it onto his plate. Without even recovering he turned to Hermione and shouted, "WHAT? How could you even suggest that? This is bloody Snape you're talking about. Why would you even want to spend extra time with him? Harry, can you believe what she just said?"  
  
Hermione cringed in anticipation.  
  
"Actually, Hermione, I think it's a good idea," said Harry in a grim voice. Ron turned to Harry in astonishment, mouth agape.  
  
"Look Ron, I've been thinking about it too. You don't know how many times I've thought about what happened last spring. And as much as I hate to say it, none of it would have happened if I had been able to protect my mind from Voldemort. I was going to ask Dumbledore if he could teach me Occlumency this term, but seeing as how he's been so busy what with the Order and everything, well.."  
  
"But…."  
  
"Oh Ron, stop being so stupid. Don't you remember the Sorting Hat's song from last year? We're going to have to trust each other now, and that includes Snape, if we're to survive." At her last words, Harry's face fell and Ron looked away quickly. Hermione gasped.  
  
"Oh Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…."  
  
"I know, Herm," said Harry, but he continued to avoid her eyes.  
  
"Great, now look what you did, Hermione."  
  
"Shut up Ron." She stood up, scraping her chair loudly and picked up her bookbag. Without another word, she strode out the Great Hall looking very, very angry.  
  
***  
  
Professor Snape had watched the Gryffindor trio from beneath hooded lids ever since they had sat down for breakfast. Although he couldn't hear what they were saying, he had a good idea what had happened when the youngest Weasley boy had spit out his food. He smirked. Typical, really. He was slightly surprised, though, when Potter did not respond in like. There had been a slight hope that the boy would have been able to dissuade the Granger girl from carrying on with her ludicrous idea.  
  
It seemed, however, that it was Weasley that had caused her to storm out of the room. His reverie was interrupted by Sybill to his left.  
  
"Lover's quarrel?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Trelawney pointed towards Hermione's retreating form with her chin.  
  
"I'm not surprised, of course. It was clearly evident from my meditations this morning that the girl would find conflict within the realms of Venus today."  
  
"Now, Sybill, I have no idea what you're talking about. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are not involved romantically. Believe me, I'd know," said Prof. McGonagall, entering the conversation.  
  
"But of course. My visions tell of the future. That which transpires now only works to guide the course of things yet to come."  
  
Severus's lip thinned into what could almost be construed as a smile.  
  
"Excuse me ladies, but as I find no pleasure in such trivial matters, I bid you good day."  
  
Minerva's eyes followed Snape as he left the table, following the precise path her star pupil had taken just moments ago.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

            Because she had left breakfast so early, Hermione figured she had time to visit the library before her first class of the day.  While she had calmed down considerably, she still did not want to bump into Ron before she had to, and the library was the third best place in Hogwarts to avoid him, after the Slytherin dungeons and Moaning Myrtle's lavatory.

            Clutching the permission slip in her hand, she tentatively approached Madam Pince's desk.

            "Yes, what is it, Miss Granger?"  Madam Pince managed to look down her nose at Hermione even though she was sitting down.

            "I have this note from Professor Snape, ma'am."  She handed it over to the librarian.  As Pince read the note, her eyebrows rose incredulously, and with a snort she shoved it back at Hermione.

            "How did you get this?" she demanded.

            "I told you, it's from Professor Snape.  See, he signed it at the bottom."

            "I know what it says, Miss Granger.  But I'm hardly as gullible are you'd like to believe.  I highly doubt that Professor Snape would have written this, much less given it to _you._"

            Hermione didn't know what to say.  She had forgotten Pince's suspicious nature, especially as witnessed the last time she had come to get a book from the restricted section.  Before she could think of a response, however, she heard a familiar silky voice drift over her right shoulder.

            "I can assure you, Irma, that the note is authentic."

            "Professor Snape!" both women exclaimed.  Hermione turned around, surprise evident in her eyes.

            "I would encourage you to show Miss Granger the location of the books before she is late to class."

            "Of course, Severus.  This way, Miss Granger," said Madam Pince meekly as she quickly walked to the back of the library.

            Hermione was shocked.  Had Professor Snape just corroborated with her?  It was the truth, of course, but he was the last person she would have expected assistance from for something so minor as borrowing a library book, even if it was one he had assigned.  Stunned as she was, by the time she realized that she should have thanked him, a slip of black robes was the only evidence of his prior presence before the door to the library closed.

            "Miss Granger, please hurry up.  I haven't got all day."

            "Yes, ma'am.  I'm sorry."  Hermione hurried to catch up with the librarian, storing away the encounter for further examination.

***

            On the way back to the dungeons, Severus was likewise preoccupied.  What had just happened?  He wasn't even sure why he had gone to the library in the first place.  He _had_ been thinking of Granger as he left the Great Hall, and when he found himself standing behind her, something had happened.  It was as if a part of his heart that had been missing had finally _clicked_ into place; there was the slightest sensation of the peace one felt when they saw something familiar after being away in a foreign land for a long time.

            It was comforting and scary at the same time.  How so many years of practiced isolation could be forgotten by just the sight of a student's bushy mane.  For the briefest of seconds, he wondered what it would feel like to reach into that cloud of curls.  It wasn't a desire propelled by lust and more the longing borne from the loneliness he had known for so long.

            When he had heard his name being uttered by Madam Pince, though, he had snapped back to attention.  It galled him to think that the librarian would dare to presume anything of him.  He had reacted by interrupting the conversation to the defense of Granger.

            "Damn," he muttered as he happened to walk past two Hufflepuff second years.  They jumped back in fright, thinking he was about to scold them.

            "That's the second time in as many days that girl has made me speak without thinking," he thought to himself.  And how could he explain the whole fascination with her hair?  "It's frizzy, for Merlin's sake.  And it's brown.  _Brown_."  What could be so special about brown, frizzy hair?

            Except that the locks in question belonged to one Hermione Granger.  When had she become more to him than just the female of Potter's two annoying sidekicks?  It was a rhetorical question, really.  He knew exactly when it had happened.

            It had been directly after the fight in the Department of Mysteries at the end of last term.  He had been searching for her and Potter in the Forbidden Forest till almost dawn.  His voice was tired from shouting, and just as he was about to collapse from exhaustion, an owl had appeared with a message summarizing what had happened to the children and summoning him to the hospital wing at once.  He apparated to the edge of the forest and ran into the castle with newfound energy.  There in the hospital wing he saw that Madam Pomfrey was busy tending the Weasley boy.

            "Severus, I need you to take a look at Miss Granger," said Pomfrey pointing to the bed on her right.  "I've tried to stabilize her as best I could, but I think she'll be in need of some healing only your potions can provide."

            Indeed, the girl had sustained the kind of injuries indicative of the Ostriflamus jinx, a particularly nasty spell which caused not only third burns but also left a magical residue that prevented them from being fully healed without a complex regimen of potions.  As he was examining her, she had woken up quite suddenly.  Her eyes were wide in shock, and she was having extreme difficulty breathing.  She was clearly panicking, and he feared she would cause more harm to herself if she did not calm down.  He grasped her hands that had been reaching about wildly, possibly in search of her wand.

            "Miss Granger, listen to me.  You are safe.  Do you hear me?  You are in the hospital wing at Hogwarts and you are safe.  Please, you need to calm down."

            At his words she had gone still.  Her eyes found his, and he could see the panic turn into understanding and then into something that could possibly have been trust.  He dropped her hands immediately, as if they had burned him.  She continued to look at him, however, and her breathing had returned to normal.

            "Professor Snape," she said quietly, and it had sounded like the answer to an unspoken question.

He had had to avert his eyes, looking down instead to her burns.  His voice took on a more businesslike manner, although it was still nowhere as harsh as the one he used in class.

"You have been hit with the Ostriflamus jinx, Miss Granger.  It will take a week or two to heal, but you must follow my instructions carefully.  You will have to drink a series of potions every day in the exact order I tell you and at the same time each day.  Unfortunately, we only carry eight of the potions here in the hospital wing so I will need to brew the remaining two now."

He rose to leave but stopped when he felt her hand staying his.  He turned his head slowly.  She looked straight into his eyes.

"Thank you," she had said softly.  He gave a slight nod in acceptance, afraid what his voice would sound like if he had tried to speak.  Her hand withdrew from him, and she had closed her eyes, her long lashes casting shadows down the length of her pale cheeks.

That afternoon he delivered the potions to Madam Pomfrey through house elf and made sure never to have the occasion to cross paths with Hermione again until he knew for sure she had left on the Hogwarts Express.  Over the summer, it had been easy to forget her as he continued to do his work for Dumbledore, and even when she had returned at the beginning of the school year, he had been able to avoid her for the most part.  At times when necessary, he made sure to be especially distant and harsh to insure that there would be no repeat of what had transpired in the hospital wing that morning.  Except that now, in a moment of weakness, he had allowed himself to have hope again.  

            Disgusted with himself, he responded by deducting five points from Hufflepuff (wishing the students had been Gryffindor), mainly because he could and because it made him feel better, to know that he was in control once more. 

------------------------------------------

_Ostriflamus_ = rough Latin translation for "purple flame"—what Hermione had been hit with in the Department of Mysteries.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

True to his word, Professor Snape's Potions class had dwindled considerably in number. Hermione recalled his speech in the beginning of last year, when he had pronounced that he would be taking "only the very best" for his N.E.W.T. class. Looking around, she realized that the class was so small that all four houses had been lumped together into one. 

She recognized Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw sitting together, as well as Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. Parvati Patil, the only other Gryffindor in the class had chosen to sit with her twin sister, Padma. The four from last year's D.A. all gave her a brief smile. She smiled back, relieved to see some familiar faces. She found it hard to suppress a groan, however, when she saw Draco Malfoy sitting alone in the front row. Well, at least she wouldn't have to contend with Crabbe and Goyle anymore, she thought.

"Looks like the Mudblood's all by her lonesome, now that Potty and the Weasel have left. Aww, you're not scared, are you?" Draco said with his usual drawl.

"Shut it, Malfoy. Looks like you're just as alone here too. Although I'm not surprised; the lot of you Slytherins are so thick I bet the only reason _you're_ here is because you're the teacher's pet."

"Ha, if you must know, Granger, I got an O on my Potions' O.W.L.," sneered Draco.

It was a good thing Professor Snape entered the room at this moment because Hermione didn't know how to respond to that. She had always assumed that Draco had gotten by in Potions because he was the teacher's pet, but she also knew how objective the O.W.L.'s were.  For him to have scored an Outstanding meant she had been wrong about him all of these years.

"Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to find a seat so that we may begin." Snape voice was, if possible, colder than usual. After what had transpired yesterday morning in the library, Hermione had hoped that there might have been some sort of change in his demeanor, but realized pragmatically that that was as likely to happen as Malfoy offering to share his table with her.

Unfortunately, she realized the only seat left _was_ the one next to Draco. Panicked, she looked at the Potions Master, but he had already turned to write on the chalkboard. 

"Malfoy, I know you want to sit next to me as little as I do, so say something. He'll listen to you!" hissed Hermione. Instead of replying, Draco just sat back and smirked.

"That will be five points from Gryffindor. Ten if you don't sit down immediately, Miss Granger," said Professor Snape without turning from the board.

Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned. There was nothing to be done about it however. Resigned, she sat down at the table, scooting her chair as far away from Malfoy as was possible. She bent down to take out her quill and parchment from her schoolbag and started to copy what was written on the board. After a few words, though, she could feel Malfoy watching her. She turned, eyes narrowed and ready to spit out some scathing retort, but the look he gave her stilled her tongue. He wasn't just staring; he was _leering_. His eyes traveled slowly down her body and back up again. When he saw that she was watching him, he smiled again and licked his lips.

       "My, my, the summer sure has treated _you_ well, Granger. All grown up now, aren't we?"

It was true. While all the other girls in her class had been growing and blossoming throughout the last few years, Hermione was what her parents called her, a "later bloomer." She hadn't really cared; studying and running around with Harry and Ron had preoccupied her time. But over the summer she had found that her blouses weren't buttoning anymore over her chest. And when she had seen her two best friends again at the train station, they had both been staring at the region below her neck until she loudly repeated her greeting for the third time. It had been embarrassing then (and she still caught Ron looking at her down there sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking, whereas Harry now resolutely never looked anywhere but straight into her eyes when he talked to her), but it was nothing compared to this.

Hermione couldn't help it; she started to blush heavily, feeling hot all over. This was simply unacceptable, but she didn't know what to do. Ask her anything from Hogwarts, A History, and she'd be fine. But how to react to unwanted sexual attention was something she had never studied in any of her textbooks.

She tried to ignore him, hoping the lack of response would make him desist. It only moved him to try harder, however. Suddenly, she felt something touch her one of her ankles. 

Hermione gave a small gasp. Snape turned around and glared at her, but seeing nothing else the matter, he left it at that and continued to write the syllabus for the term.

Whatever had touched her was moving upwards to stroke her calves, sending sparks of electricity shooting up and down her spine. Hermione froze. What was wrong with her? Draco Malfoy, quite-possibly-Junior-Death-Eater-and-most-definitely-the-biggest-prat-in-school was playing footsies with her, and she was almost enjoying it. She could no longer concentrate on what Snape was saying; she couldn't do anything other than focus on the lazy circles his foot was making on her right calf. 

She heard his chair slide closer, and he snickered in her ear as he placed a hand on her bare knee. 

"Do you like that, Mudblood?" he whispered. 

Closing her eyes, Hermione could barely contain a moan. His hand, _his hand_! It was made of fire, and the flames were slowly consuming her, crawling up her thighs and….

"Miss Granger!" Her eyes snapped open and Draco's hand retreated just as quickly. "Just because you received an Outstanding on your O.W.L's doesn't mean you have permission to sleep in my classroom. Another five points from Gryffindor."

Once again, Hermione felt the urge to defend herself to Snape, but she saw him watching her, just waiting for an outburst. It was infuriating. But seeing as how she bloody well wasn't going to tell the whole class, much less _him_, why she her eyes had been closed, she had to keep her mouth shut. If only looks could kill, there would have been no need for Avada Kedavra right then.

When he was satisfied that she would remain silent, Severus started his lesson.

"Today we will be attempting to brew Fake Phoenix Tears. Miss Turpin, what would the properties of this fluid be?"

"It-it acts like real phoenix tears?" stammered Lisa.

"Miss Turpin, if you expect to continue in this class, you will need learn how to answer my questions definitively and not with more questions. Mister Finch-Fletchley, what are real phoenix tears used for?" 

"They heal whatever they touch, sir."

"That is correct. Two points to Hufflepuff. For this reason, wizards have been trying to duplicate this panacea for ages but without success. The closest they have been able to come is the potion you will be making today. Mister Malfoy, can you tell me in what aspect the Fake Phoenix Tears are deficient?"

"Yes sir. While the real phoenix tears are able to heal all types of injuries, physical and magical, the Fake Tears can only heal those that are physical in nature."

"Very good, Mister Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin."

Hermione and Parvati were used to the wanton display of favoritism in Potions class when it came to the Slytherins, but it seemed the five other students were not. They heard a few grumbles from their classmates, but the glare that Snape gave them suppressed any possible challenges to his authority.

"The reason you have not been taught this potion as of yet, is because of the extreme caution you will need with two of the ingredients. The first is Chlorus, a poisonous gas." With a flick of his wand, a large glass bottle appeared on his desk. Inside swirled a green-tinged mist. "One breath of this most noxious fume and Madam Pomfrey will have to scrape out what's left of your lungs." He paused for effect. "Natrium," another swish and a round dish appeared beside the bottle, "has the distinct property of bursting into flames upon contact with either the air or water. For this reason, it always stored in oil, and you will have to be very careful in cutting and using it. Because of the limited supply, you will be working with your desk partner on this potion. The instructions are in your textbook on page forty-five. You have one hour; I suggest you begin now."

Before Malfoy could say or do anything, Hermione jumped out of her seat using the pretext of wanting to start the potion as soon as possible. She was the first to the store cupboard and spent her time there, slowly gathering the ingredients listed. Last were the Chlorus and Natrium. Parvati was already cautiously siphoning off an aliquot of the green gas into a sealed round flask so she turned her attention to the Natrium. It was sitting in a high-walled dish filled with thick, clear oil. Funny, how such an innocuous looking slab of soft metal could in reality be so dangerous. She picked up the scalpel laying next to the dish and carefully made an incision. Without warning, a pale hand wrapped around hers as a warm voice breathed into her ear.

"Let me help you with that, Granger."

Hermione jerked away in response and succeeded in knocking over the dish. In horror, she watched it fall to the ground and break. The oil began to spread across the floor, and the Natrium began to catch fire. There were screams of panic as students jumped back from the flames and bumped into one another, knocking over desks and chairs. Snape was there in an instant with his wand ready. 

"_Flamus Conglacio_!" As soon as he saw that the flames had indeed been rendered harmless, he spun around to face Hermione. 

"Miss Granger, that was the _only_ source of Natrium we had! Did I not just inform you how dangerous and rare that ingredient is? I have had _enough_ of you disrupting my class today! Twenty points and detention tonight, in my office.

"Seeing as how you have succeeded in preventing the rest of your classmates from making today's assignment, homework tonight will be a full report on the history and making of Fake Phoenix Tears, including safety procedures in regards to Natrium." There was a collective groan from the class. Hermione was too ashamed to look anyone in the eyes. She felt tears threatening to form. It was so unfair!

"Well, what are you lot waiting for? Class dismissed. Miss Granger, stay behind so we may discuss your detention."

As her classmates hurried to pack and leave, Hermione remained by his desk, staring at the chunks of Natrium that were safely burning themselves out. A thousand emotions were rolling through her, mirroring the ever-changing orange flames. She was shaking and clenching her hands so tightly that the test tube she had been holding cracked. Blood was starting to drip from the cut in her hand, but she didn't notice.

It wasn't until Snape reached for her hand that she looked up with a sharp intake of breath. The professor was gently uncurling her fist, and a look of concern was evident in his face. His voice was much softer now that only the two of them remained in the room.

"Miss Granger, please. I need to check your hand. Don't move. I'll need to remove the glass shards, but it may hurt." Even now, especially now, he dared not look her in the eyes.

Tears traveled down her face as she silently watched the Potions Master kneeling before her and carefully inspecting her hand. With nothing else to latch onto, he became the focus of all her emotions. It was too bewildering; it was more than she could handle. Before she knew what she was doing, her uninjured hand was raised, and she slapped her teacher hard across the cheek.

***

The blow had stunned Severus. He watched in shock as she ran out of the classroom; she was gone before he could react. Tenderly, he reached for his jaw. It was still sore and stung horribly.

Slowly, he picked himself up, careful not to cut himself on any of the broken pieces of glass. As he began to clean up the mess on the floor with a few simple spells, he thought about what had just happened.

The only explanation he could come up with for Hermione's violent reaction was that she could not bear his touch. He had been slapped before, by other women, but for similar reasons. It ate at him, because he knew he should not have touched her, should have sent her straight to hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to take care of. But the sight of the blood and the lost look on her face had made him act on instinct. All he had wanted to do at that point was comfort her.

It was hopeless, he thought. Somehow, the girl had gotten under his skin. And the only way he knew to protect himself, and her as well, was to isolate himself from her. Sighing, he sat down at his desk and reached for a quill. He wrote a quick note, reread it, folded it, and sealed it with wax. He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared immediately.

"Yes, Professor Snape? How can Bompwee be serving you sir?"

"Please give this to Miss Granger. That is all."

The house elf accepted the note and disappeared as quickly as he had come, leaving the Potions Master alone in his room so that no one heard his sudden gasp of pain.

--------------------------

AN: Sorry if this chapter (especially the end) was confusing, but it will (hopefully) all be explained in the next chapter. =)

_Chlorus _= my Latin bastardizing of chlorine, which actually is a green, poisonous gas.

_Natrium_ = Latin for sodium, which is, coincidentally, flammable upon contact with air and water.

Sodium + chlorine = NaCl, also more commonly known as table salt.

Sorry, couldn't help it. I was a chemistry major, after all. ^_^

_Flamus Conglacio_ = bad Latin for "flame freeze." Remember the spell used by witches when they were being "burned" at the stake? Heehee, I didn't either. You can thank the Harry Potter Lexicon (www.hp-lexicon.org) for that one.


	5. Chapter 5

AN:  I just rewatched Sense and Sensibility for the first time in a few years, and imagine my surprise when Marianne and Colonel Brandon basically reenact part of the flashback scene from Chapter 3.  I swear I wasn't thinking about that when I wrote it!  But, holy crap, there it is!  Squee!  I think I replayed that scene like 5 times to see his reaction over and over.  Alan Rickman is a god.

And before I continue I find that I must give credit to Cassandra Claire, whose Draco trilogy was the white rabbit that drew me into the world of HP fanfiction.  

Also to Anna, whose "Roman Holiday" trilogy has become my all time favorite HG/SS fic.  Anna, my soul is still weeping from that letter Bill wrote Hermione in "Last Tango in Paris."  When can I have it back?

Thanks to Soccergirl2044 for your continued encouragements.  And as always, to my awesome beta, Harmonia.

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Chapter 5

        Hermione was crying in her bed.  She sat, sunk low into a mass of pillows, with knees bent and arms flung over her eyes.  Potions had been the last class of the day, and though everyone was down at dinner now, she had pulled the curtains of her bed down, giving her complete privacy.  The dead run she had made from the dungeon classroom to her bed had turned her sobbing into syncopated gasps for breath punctuated with the occasional hiccup.

        "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…." she repeated over and over in her head.  She couldn't believe what she had just done.  She had _slapped_ a teacher!  And not just any teacher, she had slapped Professor Snape!  She thought back to all the wrongs she had ever committed against the man:  setting his robes on fire, stealing the Polyjuice Potion ingredients from him, disarming him in the Shrieking Shack….  But in all those instances, she had had a good reason, or at least what she had thought was a good reason at the time, to do those things.  But this….  

She could not possibly justify it, but back in the classroom, when she had looked down upon him, just before she had hit him, she had felt a rush of _power._  As if she had tapped into some mystical female energy, the same which must have coursed through the veins of Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, and Aphrodite herself.  It was glorious and intoxicating.  For that brief instant of time, she _knew _she had him in her thrall.  That he was hers to do as she would.  And what had she done?  

She gasped and sat up suddenly as it hit her.  Oh dear god, she was going to be expelled for sure!  

"Oh, bloody hell!"  She had also forgotten about the condition of her hand when she had used it to support her upright position.  Her left arm gave way and she collapsed upon it, producing another swear.  She lay that way for a few moments, biting her lips, until she could manage the pain.  Then, she slowly rolled onto her back and reached for her wand.

"_Lumos_," she uttered and looked properly at her hand for the first time.  It was not a pretty sight.  Most of the blood had dried, and she was able to clean it off along with the smaller shards of glass.  There remained one larger piece that appeared to have embedded itself quiet deep into her palm.  Bracing herself, she pulled it out and gasped from the pain.  Fresh blood spurted from the wound.  She quickly transfigured a bowl to catch the blood and some bandages to dress it with.  Thankfully, no major veins or arteries had been severed, although she didn't know if there would be any nerve damage.  Her fingers were certainly starting to feel numb, but she wasn't sure if that was from the tight bandaging or not.  Experimentally, she dragged them across her right forearm.  It was like the touch of a foreign object, or another person.

        Instantly, she was brought to remember Draco Malfoy touching her.  Her frame shuddered and tensed at the thought.  She had not known what her body was capable of, had not known that it was possible to feel so aroused by something her mind was so disgusted by.  She felt betrayed by her own senses.

        It was maddening, and it was frightening.  Hermione prided herself on being a young woman of intelligence and discipline.  After all, hadn't she been the one to figure out the Devil's Snare and potions logic puzzle in the first year?  And who else had discovered the identity of the monster from the Chamber of Secrets or figured out that Lupin was a werewolf and that Rita Skeeter an Animagus?  

        But none of that mattered anymore.  All of that, all of the studying, all the "books and cleverness" had been useless when it came to what Malfoy had made her feel this afternoon.  She felt something else now, and it was so strong, she almost couldn't recognize it.  _Shame_.

        It sat thick and heavy in her stomach, and the gravity of the emotion pulled at all her thoughts until she could feel nothing else.  It was probably the first time in her life that her mind could be described as blank.

        While she sat there in her stupor, she slowly became aware of the fact that someone was knocking on her door.  Quite insistently, in fact.

        "Hermione!  I know you're in there!  It's me, Ginny!  Hermione, won't you let me in?"  Numbly, Hermione made her way to the door and unlocked it.  

        When Ginny heard the almost imperceptible click of the door unlocking, she flung it open and almost gasped at the change that had taken place in her friend.  She had obviously been crying, the bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face attested to that.  And though she couldn't see it at first, she smelled blood.  She spotted the bandages around her hand; she must have cut herself somehow.  But there was something else that frightened Ginny even more than injury.  It was in there, in her eyes—an unfocused glaze—a lack of awareness that she had never seen Hermione without.  It scared her a little, to think that something could have happened in Hogwarts that had reduced a Gryffindor prefect to this.  At the same time, another part of her recognized that this is what she must have looked like after the times Tom had possessed her.  Something inside of her clenched preemptively; were the walls of safety and security that she had struggled so hard to erect after her first year about to crumble?

        The two women stared at each other for another moment before younger reacted and threw her arms around the elder.  The unexpected move triggered yet another burst of tears from Hermione.  Without knowing it, Ginny began channeling her mother as she comforted Hermione with the same motions and words that she had been the recipient of so many times.  Eventually, the sobs became whimpers, and finally even those turned quiet.  Ginny led her to her bed, and they sat down side by side on the edge with her arm still draped over Hermione's shoulder.

        "Hermione…what happened?  We noticed you weren't at dinner, and then Parvati came and told us what happened in Potions class.  Harry and Ron wanted to check up on you, but you know they can't come up here."  Ginny paused as she tried to think of what to say next.  She spoke the next few words carefully and clearly.  "Why didn't you come down for dinner, Hermione?  What did Snape say to you after class?  And what happened to your hand?"

        Hermione looked up and withdrew her hands from her face with a sharp intake of breath.  She turned, and it was as if she was seeing Ginny for the first time.

"Oh Ginny," she said in a hoarse whisper, "I don't know; I don't know what's happening to me!"  Her eyes were wide with fear.  Ginny gathered her into her arms again.  She recognized panic when she saw it.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Hermione.  It's going to be okay."  Ginny could see that Hermione was too exhausted to deal with anything else right now and let her fall back onto the bed.  She stood up, pulled the blankets over her shoulders, and smoothed back the soft, brown hair.  Hermione had curled into a fetal position and was already breathing evenly, well on her way to sleep.  Ginny closed the curtains around her bed and quietly walked out, closing the door behind her.

When she turned around, she jumped in surprise as a house elf apparated with a pop in front of her.

"You is Miss Granger's Wheezy?"

"What?  Oh, yes.  That's me.  Shhhh, you have to be quiet.  She's sleeping."

The house elf looked anxiously at the door and back to her.  

"Oh, what to do, what to do?"

"What's wrong…um, what's your name?"

"Oh, you _is_ such a nice Wheezy.  Dobby is telling us all about you.  Bompwee is so happy to meet you, Bompwee is."

"Thank you, Bompwee.  Now is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, if only Wheezy could.  Bompwee is supposed to give this letter to Miss Granger, but Bompwee is afraid Miss Granger will give Bompwee _clothes_!"  Ginny almost laughed at this.

"It's okay, Bompwee.  I'll take the letter and give it to her when she wakes up.  Will that be all right?"

"Oh yes, Miss Wheezy.  Thank you Miss Wheezy.  Bompwee is ever so gracious."  The house elf handed the note to her and disappeared before Ginny could ask who had sent the note.  She inspected the scroll.  It was wrapped with a silver ribbon and sealed with green wax.  The stamp on the seal was clearly the Slytherin emblem.  Snape!  Who else in Slytherin would have the authority to send a note by house elf?  But what did he possibly have to say to Hermione that couldn't wait until she served detention that night?  And why send a letter when he could have just as easily summoned her to him?  Eyeing the scroll in question, she wondered if the contents would give her a clue as to why she had found Hermione the way she did.

She debated whether to open it or not.  Eventually, curiosity and concern won over and she cast the same spell Umbridge had used to read Harry's letters without breaking the seal.  Well, she wasn't the youngest of seven Weasleys for nothing.  Opening it, she recognized the same handwriting she had seen in Potions class for the last five years.  

_Miss Granger,_

_        You are excused from tonight's detention.  _(Ginny gasped.)  _Furthermore, I have removed you from the regular Potions classes and have enrolled you in an advanced auto-tutorial course which should allow you to finish the usual two year program of study in only one._

_        I find no reason for the events that transpired this afternoon to be made public knowledge.  I trust that you will agree with me in this regard and choose not to disclose any possibly damaging information._

_        Signed,_

_        Prof. Severus Snape_

        "Well, if anything, now I'm even _more_ confused," thought Ginny.  Seeing as how the addressee was soundly asleep and would not be waking up anytime soon, she pocketed the letter and went down to find her brother and Harry, thinking that she could just deliver it the next morning.

--------------------------------------

AN:  Just a heads up for those who've been reading from the start, I went back and added the following 10 words to the end of Chapter 4:  "…so that no one heard his sudden gasp of pain."

And for those who are wondering if I'm going to go off on some "Goddess" story line, don't worry.  As much as I love Marion Zimmer Bradley's "Mists of Avalon," I have respect for canon to have our dear Christmas-and-Easter-celebrating Hermione go all Willow on us.  So the reference to "the mystical female energy" is really just my way of conveying that Hermione is realizing the power she has as a woman over a man, even one as complicated as our poor, tortured Snape.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

        "Pssst.  Harry.  Harry, wake up."

        Harry groaned and reached for his glasses.  He had just been in the middle of a _very_ nice dream starring Ginny Weasley in a pink genie costume and himself as….  Wait a minute.  Was he still dreaming?

        The very girl of his dreams (minus the pink costume) was kneeling on his bed and looking at him quite expectantly.  Harry rubbed his eyes.  Yup, she was still there.  And she was starting to look at him quizzically.  Oh god, he hoped she hadn't noticed what was going on further south of his body.  He gulped.  In the meantime, quizzically had turned to peevishly.  "Better make it good," he thought to himself as he sat up, conveniently draping the extra fabric over certain, currently more noticeable parts of his anatomy.

        "Ginny, what are you doing here?"  Strange, his voice usually didn't sound this high.

        "Shhhh.  Don't wake anyone else up.  I have something to show you."

        Harry didn't know it was possible for even more blood to drain from his face.  Or his brain.

        "Uh."

        Ginny rolled her eyes.

        "It's about Hermione."  More silence.  "Oh, forget it.  I don't even know why I bothered."  

        Harry felt the mattress spring back up as Ginny climbed off and snuck out the room.  He blinked twice in the darkness.  Oh.  Right.  Hermione.  Just as silently, he followed her out, making sure to take his wand with him.

        "_Ginny_," he stage whispered.  She was already halfway up the stairs to the girl's bedrooms, but she paused and turned around.

        "What did you want to show me?"  She held one finger to her lips and indicated that they should move to the Common Room, away from the sleeping chambers.  They tiptoed over to the fireplace, where the last embers were dying.  He figured he could have used his wand to illuminate the scroll she was holding out for him to read, but it was much nicer to have to scrunch up right next to her to be able to get enough light.  All thoughts of romance disappeared, however, by the time he finished reading the note.

        "Ginny, where did you get this?"

        "I…I got it from a house elf.  He was supposed to deliver it to her, but she was sleeping, and he was afraid she'd give him clothes, so I offered to deliver it for him.  I wasn't going to open it, only…I noticed the colors and the seal and….  And I thought maybe….  Oh Harry, you should have seen her!  She was crying, and she was so scared.  I've never seen her like that.  Something truly awful must have happened."

        "But why didn't you tell us after we sent you to check up on her?  All you said was that she was tired and wanted to take a nap before her detention."

        "You know my brother, Harry.  He would have made such a fuss.  And I was afraid he'd go do something rash."  Harry mentally made note that she had, in spite of what she thought of Ron, chosen to share this information with _him_.  Even in the middle of this precarious situation, something deep inside of him grew very warm.

        "Um, right.  Well what do you think this means?"

        "Argh, who knows?" said Ginny, sounding exasperated.  "The last few hours I've been imagining a million different scenarios in my head, but nothing makes sense."  She sat back, looking around as she thought.  "So this is what we know for sure.  Parvati told us that Hermione dropped something in Potions and got a detention from Snape.  Do you remember what it was that she dropped?"  
  


        "She said it was 'nay-tree-um' or something like that."

        "Hmmm, I'm not sure what that is."

        "Me neither."

        "I wonder if that's how she got cut…."

        "What cut?"

        "Oh, I forgot to tell you.  When I saw her, she had a cut on her left hand.  Well, I think it was a cut; it was all bandaged up already.  But there was a lot of blood, Harry.  I could smell it."

        This was very bad, thought Harry.  A mysterious note from Snape, Hermione in hysterics, and blood.  Very bad indeed.

        "So then…something…how did he put it?  Something 'possibly damaging' happened between Snape and Hermione after everyone left the classroom.  And there was blood involved," said Harry.

        "Right.  Something so bad that he's kicking her out of his Potions class."

        "But not so bad that he's not letting her finish the course by herself.  And he even excused her from detention tonight."

        The two of them stared off into space as they both considered what could possibly make the Potions Master excuse someone from a detention.  At the same time, they turned to each other and said, "He's trying to avoid her!"  Even their reactions were the same; they both blushed and drew back a little.  Eventually, Harry tried to fill the awkward silence that followed.

        "So why would he want to avoid her?  Unless, you don't think…."

        "What, that he made a move on her?  That he tried to kiss her?"  Harry couldn't help but notice that Ginny's eyes had looked down at his lips for the briefest of moments as she said this before returning to his eyes.  "No, I thought of that already, but I don't think that's what happened.  This is Hermione we're talking about.  And Snape.  He'd never do something like that.  Plus, Hermione would just hex him six ways to Sunday if he had tried to do anything she didn't want him to."

        Harry was about to agree when he suddenly heard footsteps.  They both looked at each other and dashed to hide behind the couch.  The steps were coming closer now, but rushed right past them and out the portrait hole.  

        "Did you see?" asked Ginny.  Harry shook his head.  

        "They walked by too quickly.  I don't think they saw us, though.  Probably just some seventh year sneaking off to the Astronomy Tower."  Harry was quiet for a moment.  "Ginny, do you think we should tell Dumbledore about this?  Or McGonagall?"

        "No," said Ginny, shaking her head emphatically.  "I don't want her to know we read her note."  She stifled a yawn.  "I think…I think maybe we should just wait until tomorrow morning and ask her what happened.  Without Ron, if possible."

        Harry nodded.  She made to get up, but before she could, he touched her shoulder.

        "Ginny, thanks for showing this to me.  It means a lot that you trust me like this."

        "Well, you're her best friend.  I don't know who else I could have told."

        Harry considered this a moment before he said, "Ginny, if you ever….  If you ever got into any kind of trouble, you know I'd be there for you, right?"

        Her face softened, and she touched the hand on her shoulder.

        "Oh Harry.  Don't you remember, you already saved me when I needed you most.  Of course I know."  She smiled and dropped her hand.  "Good night, Harry."

        "Good night, Ginny."

They both crept up to their respective bedrooms, each harboring the bittersweet knowledge that while their dear friend was suffering, they were finding a reason to smile in their sleep.

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AN:  If you like HP/GW, you should definitely check out Barb's Psychic Serpent chronicles.  No HG/SS, but I think the exciting plot lines and excellent writing more than make up for it.  ^_^

Thanks to Ezmerelda for what was probably _the_ nicest comment ever.  And to Susanna/pigwidgeon 37, whom I consider one of the goddesses of HG/SS.  Sorry there was no Snape in this chapter, but at least you got to hear a little of Hermione, if not actually see her.  ;)  Harmonia, my deepest gratitude for your swift betaing.  =)


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thank you to Harmonia, who somehow always knows what I mean to say, even when I say the exactly opposite. And who also knows exactly what I need to add, oftentimes even before I do.

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Chapter 7

Hermione's mind continued to work as she slept. She dreamt of all the different ways she would be expelled. There was the one in which she was summoned to the headmaster's office. Her parents were already there and crying. Snape had a sneer on his face and Dumbledore was telling her that she would be the first prefect ever to be expelled from Hogwarts. Then there was the one where she woke up in her own bedroom at home, obliviated so that she forgot the magical world even existed.

Most horrifying was the one in which the spectacle that had happened last year as Trelawney was being sacked was reenacted, except that she had taken Trelawney's place, and Snape had taken Umbridge's. Instead of moving to comfort her, Professor McGonagall had stood back and looked at her with disappointed eyes. The headmaster had opened the front doors and the crowd of students and teachers, including Hagrid, had closed in on her, chanting, "Off with the Mudblood, off with the Mudblood."

Hermione shook herself to consciousness. It took her a few moments for the last grips of sleep to leave her. She had watched herself being expelled so many times that it felt as if the deed had already been done. Only it wasn't. And there was still the chance that any of those horrid dreams would come true. 

Well, not if she could help it. She still had her pride and her courage, and if there was any way to be expelled in a dignified manner, she was going to see to it. And there was the faintest glimmer of hope that she could somehow persuade the Potions Master to allow her to stay at the school. But to do so, she needed to speak to him now. She couldn't bear to wait until the morning, when she might already be too late. She figured if anyone caught her, she could use the excuse that she was going to serve a detention with him. It was true, after all, that he had given her one for tonight, even though she realized it was quite a bit later than the times usually given for detentions, and that in the face of her upcoming expulsion, even Snape had probably forgotten about it.

Resolved, she set out on her way to the dungeons. But not before stopping by the bathroom to brush her teeth first. Ten years and five summers of living with her parents had instilled habits even a threat of expulsion could not break.

***

As soon as he felt firm ground beneath his feet again, Severus collapsed. 

"Profess'r Snape!" shouted Hagrid. Fang reached him first. He tried as best he could to fend off the over-friendly licks of the mongrel.

"Urgh. Get him off me, Hagrid." His voice revealed just how weary he was. There was no trace of the usual contempt or cold calculation. It was just the voice of a very, very tired man.

"Fang! Back, boy. Down boy." The dog ran back to its master. A few seconds later, Severus felt two large hands grip him and lift him up. It was demeaning but not the first time he had to be carried back to the castle.

"Dun' know why he still let's you go to him. Ev'rytime you come back it's worse 'en the time before."

"Do not," he paused to draw a raspy breath, "speak of the headmaster so, Hagrid."

"Hmph. Right so." The half-giant was quiet the rest of the way up to the castle, but both men were thinking the same thing. It was only a matter of time before either Voldemort grew tired of Snape's limited usefulness and killed him outright or realized that his spy was double-crossing him and kill him with a great deal more pain. And even then, at the rate he was going, Snape wasn't sure he would survive to see either.

***

"Well, well, what do you have here?" a familiar voiced drawled. Hermione stiffened. Of all the luck. To be caught by Malfoy.

"Did you miss me, Her-mi-o-ne? Come back for some more?" It was the first time he had used her name, and he dragged it out in the saying, trying to make it sound like the possessive caress of a lover. He approached her from the rear, whispering into her right ear—the same position they had been in right before she had dropped the Natrium. 

Except Hermione was better prepared to fend him off this time. She drew her right arm forward and jammed it back as hard as she could, elbowing Malfoy right in the stomach. As he staggered backwards from the blow, she spun around and leveled her wand at him face. Surprise was clearly evident in his eyes.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Malfoy. You can show me the way to Snape's private quarters, or, " she dropped the wand to his crotch, "I can hex you so that _your_ privates are quartered."

He glared at her hatefully but knew he had no choice. Years of living with his father's abuse had taught him to know when to surrender. With a snarl, he turned around and started walking. 

"This way." Hermione had to run every few steps to keep up. She resisted telling him to slow down; she didn't want to push her luck any further tonight. When they rounded the last corner, they were presented with a rather unexpected tableau before them.

Hagrid was supporting Professor Snape as he was unlocking the wards to his door with Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey behind them. All four looked their way when they heard the two gasps of surprise. 

"What…is she…." asked Snape, his voice barely audible.

Before anyone could answer, Hagrid released his hold on Snape, who promptly fell into a pile on the dungeon floor.

"Oh dear," said Dumbledore.

***

Ten minutes later, they were all ensconced within Professor Snape's living quarters. The owner of the premises was currently lying on his bed and being attended to by Madam Pomfrey, with the assistance of Hagrid. Draco had been obliviated and stunned and was lying stiffly on one of the sofas in the study. Dumbledore himself was sitting behind Snape's desk, and Hermione was sitting across from him.

"Tea?" Hermione shook her head; she was still shaken and too bewildered by what she had just seen.

"Hot chocolate then," said Professor Dumbledore, and with a snap of his fingers a house elf appeared.

"Two hot chocolates if you would, Bompwee."

"Oh yes, headmaster, right away, headmaster." He popped out and reappeared a few seconds later with two steaming cups of hot chocolate on a tray, which he promptly set on the desk.

"That will be all, Bompwee." Before the house elf disappeared again, he gave Hermione a strange look, but it was lost on her. "You should try some, Miss Granger, it's my own personal recipe," said Dumbledore before he tipped his own mug. Obediently, Hermione reached for her cup and tried a sip. It _was_ good, albeit a little sweet for her tastes. As the hot liquid ran down her throat, she realized just how hungry she was, given that she had skipped dinner.

"Now, Miss Granger. We seem to find ourselves in a bit of a predicament." Hermione tensed in anticipation. She was sure his next words would be concerning her actions earlier in the day and their consequences.

"What am I supposed to think, when I see future Head Girl of Hogwarts sneaking around the dungeons with another prefect after curfew?"

"Sir?" This was definitely _not_ what she had expected to hear.

"It's happened before, of course. I remember all too clearly the number of times I found Mister Weasley with Miss Clearwater…."

"Sir, it's not what you think!" Clear blue eyes looked levelly at brown ones.

"In that case, Miss Granger, perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to what you and Mister Malfoy were doing in front of Professor Snape's doors at this time of night?" Hermione knew at once that she had been trapped. But his words also meant that perhaps Professor Snape hadn't yet told him of what had happened. A little seed of hope started to grow within her.

"I needed to speak to with Professor Snape, sir. And Malfoy was just showing me the way." There was silence as Dumbledore waited for Hermione to continue. When it was clear that she was finished, he raised an eyebrow before he continued

"I see. And may I ask why you deemed it necessary to speak to Professor Snape at this time of night?"

"I…I'd rather not say, sir. It's a matter between him and I. A…personal matter."

"Miss Granger, I realize that in the past, I have been lenient with you and Harry in regards to certain indiscretions. I fear that it may have been another mistake on my part." Dumbledore suddenly looked much older. "Tonight, you have been witness to something I truly wish you did not have to see. Which is to say, if I so desired, I could have you obliviated as I did with Mister Malfoy here." Hermione started. Certainly he didn't mean….

"However, I would also like to believe that I can trust you, Miss Granger, to keep your own counsel regarding tonight's proceedings."

"Even from Harry, sir?"

"Yes, even from Harry. I fear that he has enough burdens to deal with as it is." Dumbledore's eyes filled with sadness. "I have long wondered why it has been necessary to fight this war with children," he said, almost to himself. He then paused, as if deliberating whether or not to continue. "At the end of last year, I revealed something to Harry, something I should not have kept from him for so long. I believe that if he had known this piece of information, some of the events which transpired that night in the Department of Mysteries could have been avoided. It is only because I fear a repeat of that mistake that I am allowing you the privilege, or should I say, the responsibility of staying here to hear what will be said. And who knows, my dear girl, perhaps we will one day see that there was a reason for your presence here tonight.

"About Professor Snape, sir…." Dumbledore's eyes chose that moment to glance behind her.

"Ah, yes. Severus, please join us. We were just discussing you." He indicated to the seat next to Hermione. She thought it was peculiar that he did not offer Snape his own chair since it _was_ the professor's study they were in and _his_ desk that he was sitting behind. In fact, she almost expected Professor Snape to make mention of it but was made aware of just how worn out the Potions Master was when he did not hesitate to sit in the seat proffered. 

"Poppy, Rubeus. Thank you for all your help tonight." 

"Yes, headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, who recognized a dismissal when she heard it and left the room. Hagrid continued to stay, clearly not wanting to leave while Hermione was still here. Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood up.

"Hagrid, perhaps you could help me with the little matter of returning Mister Malfoy to his rooms?"

"Of course, sir. And afterwards, will yeh be wantin' me to escort Hermione back to her rooms?"

"I believe Miss Granger will be able to return to her chambers unassisted." Hermione turned around in her chair.

"It's okay, Hagrid. Don't worry about me; I'll be all right." He grunted an assent and left, closing the door behind him.

During the time it took for Dumbledore to sit back down, Hermione dared a glance at her professor. He was, if possible, paler than usual. There was a gaunt look about him, and for the first time, Hermione realized how much thinner he was now compared to when she had first met him. It was a little disturbing to see one of the icons in her life, unlikable as he was, suddenly looking so weak. Before she could avert her eyes, his locked onto hers. Whatever else she had expected, it was not the wounded look he gave her. As if he knew he had disappointed her somehow, or as if he was scared. Of her. What was going on? Before she could continue her thoughts, Dumbledore spoke.

"Severus, I want you to know that I trust Miss Granger here with all the information we will be discussing. There is no need to hold back anything. Do you understand?" Snape's eyes flickered from the headmaster's to hers and back before he nodded. "Good. Now what is it Tom wanted of you?"

"He wanted to know…." Snape continued, but Hermione heard none of it. She was too busy putting together the pieces of the puzzle. By "Tom" surely he didn't mean Tom Riddle. Did this mean Professor Snape was still an active Death Eater? But he was obviously playing for Dumbledore's side, which meant…which meant Professor Snape was working as a double agent! Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped and looked at the man beside her with new eyes. He glanced at her quickly as he finished his report, apparently annoyed that she had interrupted his debriefing. "…to make another potion for him, more potent than the last."

"I see." Dumbledore had set his elbows on the desk and folded his hands in front of his mouth. He digested the information a moment before he asked, "And did he…."

"Yes," said Snape quickly, as if to head off the rest of the headmaster's question, "he did." His eyes dropped to his lap, and Hermione thought that he was purposely avoiding her eyes. She gave up and looked at Dumbledore but all she was there was a look of pity for Snape.

"Severus, you know I would not ask you to continue…."

"I know, headmaster. But you know as well as I do how important it is that we have inside knowledge of Voldemort's plans. God only knows how many spies he has planted here in Hogwarts." Hermione wondered who he could mean, then realized that as the Head of the House of Slytherin, he was probably dealing with them each and every day.

"Yes, and your help is greatly appreciated, my friend." At this, Professor Snape looked up, but instead of looking grateful, Hermione saw the glint of irony. How very curious…. Once again, Dumbledore interrupted her train of thought.

"And now, Hermione, I believe it is time you had your word with Professor Snape. As it is much past the proper bedtime for an old coot such as I, I will leave the two of you alone. Good night."

-------------------------------------------------

AN: The exact look I had in mind during Dumbledore's speech to Hermione was how Gandalf looked in FOTR at the Council of Elrond when Frodo said that he would take the ring. That look that said, "I know that you are going to have to go through a heap of pain to succeed and I would spare this of you if I could, but I have no other choice. Please forgive me for bringing you to this; please forgive me for asking this of you." Argh, it gets me every time.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione could have sworn Dumbledore had winked at her before rising to leave. Then the thought entered her mind, "He doesn't know. Snape never told him. I'm not going to be expelled! Yet." She was still reveling in this discovery when her attention was brought back to the present by the man who had enabled it.

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?" he asked without turning to look at her. His voice was even, but distant, without the coldness usually associated with it. It was almost more unnerving than his usual sneer, and it startled Hermione into answering candidly, "I came to apologize, sir." 

"I see. Couldn't sleep with a guilty conscience? How very… _Gryffindor_ of you." The trademark derision was creeping back into his voice, but it was still lacking in energy. Several things at once were made clear to Hermione. One, he was trying to make her leave; two, he didn't _really_ mean what he was saying; and three, if he didn't get to his bed soon, he was likely to collapse from fatigue. 

So she chose to ignore his comment and instead turned to face him fully. When he still would not look at her, she left her chair and dropped to his side so that she was looking up at him. He needed to see that she was sincere. She owed him that much, at least.

"Professor Snape, I _am_ sorry for hitting you this afternoon. It was wrong of me and totally inexcusable. And…and I don't know why, but you chose not to tell the headmaster, and for that, I'm grateful." She paused to collect herself before continuing. "I know that you don't like me, and that you probably hate Harry, but it hasn't stopped you from putting yourself in danger, from saving us time and time again. And I don't think any of us have ever properly thanked you for that. So…so I just wanted to say, 'thank you.' For everything." She stayed there, searching his face, looking for some type of acknowledgement, some sign that he had heard her. 

He continued to stare at some fixed point in front of him, but after a few silent moments, she could swear there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes. With a sharp gasp of breath, he squeezed them shut, and the tears escaped, traveling slowly down his pale face. He held that breath for an indeterminably long stretch of time before slowly exhaling. 

"Oh my god, he's crying," she thought. In wonderment, she slowly brought one hand up to his face. When it was a mere fraction of an inch away from his skin, she paused, wondering whether or not it would be wise to actually _touch_ him. The decision was made for her, however, when he suddenly grabbed her hand with both of his and pressed it against his cheek. He clutched it there as another sob wracked through his body. 

The two of them stayed fixed in that position, neither daring to breathe or move, or otherwise break the spell. Neither of them found it ironic that earlier in the day she had used that same hand to slap that same cheek. Finally, he dropped her hand.

"Miss Granger, I think it would be best if you left now," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. She scampered upright, more than a little shaken at the response her confession had gotten. She stood there in front of him for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. Eventually, she realized it would be best if she just left, as he had requested. 

***

It wasn't until he heard the door close that he could breathe again.

Tired. He was so very tired. Tired in body, tired in spirit, and most of all, tired of being who he was. Over fifteen years of playing Dumbledore's spy had whittled away at his soul until all that was left was a finely sharpened blade. Useful and dangerous in times of need, but _not something you wanted to have lying around otherwise. Even Dumbledore was starting to feel it and react accordingly. He didn't blame him, though. Most times he could hardly stand himself._

When the headmaster had left, he had been more than aware of Hermione's presence in the room. What he didn't know, though, was why she was there. When he had first seen her out in the hallway, he had thought her an apparition. He was too jaded to use the word "angel", but for the briefest of seconds, he had thought that he had finally died, or was perhaps was close enough that he could see through the veils of mortality, and that she had been sent to take him to wherever his soul was supposed to go after a life such as his. Probably some sort of hell. If it was, they had picked the perfect form to use as his guide, as he would have gladly followed her anywhere.

Now where had that come from? Warning bells should have gone off in his head, but Hagrid had chosen that exact moment to drop him, and the thought had been lost in the ensuing pandemonium.

He sighed and rose out of the chair slowly. His muscles screamed in protest, but he knew if he stayed sitting any longer, it would have become almost impossible to stand. Once again, he returned to his sleeping chambers and disrobed with care, changing into his gray nightshirt. Finally, he climbed into bed. He closed his eyes and waited for the dark oblivion to take him.

As exhausted as he was though, he could not sleep. He could not take his mind off of _her_. The last hour's scene replayed in his mind, and he could almost feel her hand on his cheek again. He had drawn so much from that one touch. The question was, though, had it been worth it?

When she had thanked him that time in the hospital wing, it had opened up a Pandora's Box within him. Except that contrary to the box of myth, his held all the positive emotions and feelings normally associated with being a human: gratitude, kindness, compassion, hope…. He had long ago stored them away and sealed the box shut, knowing that there was no reason to have them fluttering around distractingly in his heart. It had been easier to survive this way, given the life he had to live. Former Death Eaters without money, looks, or fame did not warrant much sympathy. And if he wanted to continue the game he was playing with Voldemort, he would need to remain focused on the goal. He could not spare the time and energy to think of others in this quest and in response, he dared not accept the looks of pity and concern from the few who knew of his activities. To process them would require the acknowledgement of his need for empathy. And above all things, he despised weaknesses, especially his own. Self-control was safer than sentimentality, and denial was preferable to disappointment. 

To be finally recognized and shown appreciation for what he was doing, though, and by someone who had every right to despise him…. It had shaken him to the very core and in the process managed to bring down all of his defenses. He shuddered as he remembered the caress. She had initiated it, of course, but he had been the one to consummate the deed. And yet…and yet she had stayed there, allowing him to take what he needed. 

Damn! Why did it have to be the Granger girl? A bloody Gryffindor! No doubt she was telling Potter and Weasley even as he lay there, "I made Professor Snape cry!" Would there be no end to his humiliation at the hands of Gryffindors? His hands clenched involuntarily. The tensing of his muscles only managed to trigger an aftershock of spasms that ran amok through his body. It took all of his self-control to ride out the pain without making a sound. Damn it. He cursed Granger again. The worst was knowing that no matter what she said about him, he was bound by his own twisted sense of honor to endure it without retaliation. His only consolation was the knowledge that at least he wouldn't have to see her again in his classes. With this thought, he drifted off to sleep, a deep frown etched into his face.

***

Hermione was having an equally hard time falling asleep. She could not forget to look on Snape's face as he held her hand. Nor the move he had made to take it. It had been so impulsive, so different from his usual careful poise. And his face—she had seen something so raw, so vulnerable—it was almost beautiful. She blanched; had she just thought of her Potions teacher as beautiful?

But it was more than just how he had looked. She had meant everything she had said to him there in his study. It blew her away to think of what kind of life he must be living day in and day out. Being the Head of a House full of potential dark wizards, needing to tread the thin line between pretending to serve the Dark Lord and working for the Order…. So _that's_ why had was always favoring Malfoy. It wasn't because he was in his House; it was because Draco was probably telling his father everything Snape was doing in Hogwarts. And that's why he was always being so mean to the Gryffindors. Although, she had to admit, Harry, Ron, and Neville _were_ awful in Potions.

Still, it took a great amount of courage to do what he was doing. Too bad she couldn't tell anyone else about it. She smiled a little, thinking, "He could have been a Gryffindor," and fell asleep with that smile still on her lips.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

        When Hermione woke up the next morning, she found a scroll on her nightstand.  She fingered the ribbon and seal, which brought a smile to her face.  "Must be from Snape," she thought, figuring he had finally remembered about the detention and had written to let her know the details.  After what she had learned and experienced last night, though, she didn't mind as much the thought of being alone with him.  

"That man must be so lonely."  She remembered what it had been like the first year before Harry and Ron had saved her from the troll.  She had been so miserable; trying to prove that she belonged with all the other pureblood students by showing off how much she knew had not made her any friends.  Honestly, if it hadn't been for her two best friends, she would probably not have come back after the Christmas holidays that year.  During the third year when they had both stopped talking to her, she was reminded just how important they were to her.

God only knows how much Snape could use a friend right now.  And though he could be rather harsh most of the times, he had opened up to her, in a way, last night—something she had never thought could have happened.  "Maybe…maybe I can try to offer him some companionship."  She didn't know it, but the part of her that so strongly struggled against social injustice was starting to kick in.  "After all, doesn't he deserve to have someone who will be there for him?  Someone to make sure he's all right after he comes back from those awful Death Eater's meetings?"

It would all have to be secretly, of course.  She imagined what Ron would say if he ever knew how warmly she was thinking of the professor now.  Yes, some things were definitely better left unsaid.

        She traced the snake on the seal once more before opening it.  As she read the note, she quickly realized that he had written it before last night's episode.  And by the end, she was dumbfounded.  Pulled out of Potions?  Advanced auto-tutorial course?  Finish in one year?  Why, this meant she wouldn't have to sit next to Malfoy again.  And she'd be free next year to start university level classes if she wanted.  This was more than she could have hoped for.  Only, why was he doing this for her?  Upon further consideration, it did seem a strange thing to write to someone who had just slapped you unjustly.  Her little brow furrowed for a second, then smoothed.  Well, she was just going to have to ask him.  And since she was already finished with the two Occlumency books, she could ask for more while she was down there.

***

        When she saw Harry and Ginny in the Common Room on the way to breakfast, they both gave her the same guilty look.  Intrigued, she ventured, "What's wrong with you two?  Did you finally snog or something?"  Which only led to intense blushes and awkward eye contact between the two of them.  Instead of answering, they both rushed off to the Great Hall.  Hermione looked at Ron, who only shrugged.  

"Hmmm, maybe I'm on to something there," Hermione thought.  Not that she would disapprove.  In fact, she thought it would be absolutely smashing if the two of them were to end up together.  It's a good thing Ginny and Dean had split up over the summer.

"So what did Snape have you do last night?" asked Ron.

"Huh?"  The question had caught her unawares.

"For detention, Hermione.  What else did you think I meant?"

"Oh, sorry.  I was thinking about what project I should do for the Arithmancy N.E.W.T.'s," she lied.  She was going to have to get good at it, if she was to carry out her plans for Snape.  "He had me make some Pepper Up Potion for Madam Pomfrey.  Nothing too bad."

"Well, anything that has to do with spending time with that greasy git is bad by my standards."

"Oh Ron, you have got to stop calling him that and thinking about him that way."

"How can you say that, Hermione, after what he said to you that time Malfoy hit you with the _Densaugeo_ curse?"

"That was two years ago, Ron!  And he was in front of Malfoy at the time.  What else was he supposed to do?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is, you and I know that he's with the Order, but Malfoy probably thinks he's still a Death Eater.  And if Snape was ever nice to us, or even decent to us in front of him, he'd go running to his father faster than you can say _Lord Voldemort_."  Hermione felt a little ashamed of herself; she had only said the last part to make him cringe.  Which he did, right on cue.  "Honestly, Ron, can't you see that Snape's not as bad as we thought?"

Ron scowled for a second, then brightened.  "Well, at least I won't have to see him in class anymore."  Just then, he seemed so amiable that Hermione figured it wouldn't hurt to tell him about her new situation.

"Actually, I won't have to anymore, either."

"What do you mean?  I thought you were taking the Potions N.E.W.T.'s."

"I still am, but Professor Snape gave me permission to take an auto-tutorial class, so I can finish the whole thing in one year."

Ron looked like he couldn't decide which was worse, to have to take a class with Snape or to have to study two year's worth of material in one.  

"Oh come off it, Ron.  It's a good thing, like you said."

"Well, it still is strange though.  I've never heard of anyone taking an audiotorial class before."

"It's auto-tutorial, Ron, not 'audiotorial'."

"Whatever."  The word had been said grudgingly, but the glint in his eyes told Hermione that he was still just trying to brass her off.  In response, she punched him lightly on the arm, to which he mock-winced.  By this time, they had arrived at the Great Hall and were in view of the head table.

"Oh look, Hermione, there's your favorite teacher.  My, isn't he happy today?"  Hermione glanced over to Snape's usual spot at the table.  Actually, he seemed to be scowling even more so than normal.  He was also looking her way.  She blushed a little and looked away, hoping Ron hadn't seen that.  

"Come on, Ron.  Let's get our breakfast before Seamus and Dean eat it all."  With that, all was forgiven and the two friends went to their House's table.

***

        "Why Severus, quite taken with the Gryffindor couple, aren't we?"  Snape tore his eyes away from Hermione and looked at Sibyll.

        "As Minerva has already informed you, Sibyll, there _is_ no 'couple'."

        "Hmph.  Well then would you be admitting to staring at the young Miss Granger?"

        Snape's eyes narrowed dramatically.

        "Why do you persist on ruining my breakfasts, Professor Trelawney?"

        "Oh my, what a temper.  You remind me of when you were still a student…."

        "I refuse to sit here and continue this conversation.  Good day, Professor."  With that he stood, removed the napkin from his lap, and strode out the twin doors of the Great Hall.

***

        Hermione had seen him walk off from the corner of her eyes.  "Here's my chance," she thought and took one last bite of her buttered scone.  

        "Sorry, you guys, I just remembered.  I have to finish my, um, homework for Muggle Studies.  Just finish your breakfasts.  I'll see you later."  She was already scrambling off the bench.

        "But 'Mione, you haven't heard the end of Dean's story about the Chudley Cannons!"

        "It's okay, Ron, I'm sure you can fill me in later."  And she was off, after her professor.

***

        Draco had watched the Gryffindors enter the Great Hall as well.  He studied the Granger girl.  This morning when he woke up he had had a nasty headache and couldn't remember how he had gotten into bed.  And for some reason, he thought he remembered Hermione being in his dreams.  He smirked; though he couldn't recall the dream itself, he could imagine what he had been doing to her in it.  He was really starting to obsess about her, he realized.  Yesterday in Potions class it had been so much fun to make her squirm for him.  It had really taken bullying her to the next level; he had been hard long after the class had been dismissed.  And now he wanted more.

        He watched her leave the Gryffindor table and walk, half-running, out the door.  He glanced at the clock.  "Good, enough time for a little dalliance," he thought.  "Just the thing to start off my day."  He smiled smugly and rose.  Crabbe and Goyle looked at him questioningly, but when he made no move to address them, they returned to stuffing their faces.  Sometimes Draco did things without them, and well, that was fine with them, as long as there was food to be had.


	10. Chapter 10

Warning:  This story has been PG-13 until now.  This chapter is rated R for sexual situations.

---------------------------------------

Chapter 10

        "Interesting," thought Draco Malfoy as he followed Hermione down towards the dungeons.  She was heading straight to the Slytherin common room, as though she knew where it was.  This was getting better by the second.  If he could catch her where she wasn't allowed, it would be possible to blackmail her into doing whatever he wanted.  With that thought in mind, he made sure to proceed even more stealthily than before.  No need for her to know he was there before he wanted her to.

        It came as a surprise, then, when instead of stopping at the entrance to his common room, she continued ahead…towards Snape's quarters.  Did she even know where she was going?  What could she possibly want with Snape?  It didn't matter; soon she would be hit by the Confundus charm that intrinsically warded these halls to prevent any non-Slytherin students from finding Snape's private rooms, and she'd become utterly lost.  He grinned as another option came to mind.  Perhaps he could play hero to her damsel in distress.  

        He waited until he knew for sure the charm had triggered.  It was obvious when she began to slow down and look around in bewilderment.  "Better get her now while she still hasn't figured it out," he thought to himself.  He carefully schooled his face to show guilelessness and approached her from behind, brushing away the odd feelings of déjà vu.

***

        Hermione _was_ confused.  "I was just here last night.  But…but it all looks different now.  There should have been a turn here, I…I think."  It didn't help that the first time she had come this way she had been focused on making sure Malfoy wasn't going to turn around and attack her.  And last night on her way back to her room she had been not a little dazed; without thinking of which way she was going, she had found herself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

        She sighed.  Perhaps she should backtrack….  She turned around and slammed straight into something hard.  Not entirely hard though, and rather warm.  With arms that were clutching hers.  Hard.

        "Oof."

        "Careful, Mudblood.  You should watch where you're going."

        "_Malfoy!_" she hissed.

        "That's right, Her-mi-o-ne.  Why, you should be _glad_ to see me.  Feeling a little lost, are we?"  Ugh, he had said her name the exact same way he had last night.  How many times was this going to happen to her?

        "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy.  Now let me go!"

        "Tsk, tsk, tsk.  I think you should consider being a little nicer to me now.  How else are you going to find your way out of here?"  As he said this, he had walked her backwards until she felt the wall behind her.

        "For the last time, _get off me_!"

        "Fine."  To her surprise, he actually let go of her but continued to stand where he was with a smirk on his face.  If she wanted to move, she'd have to touch him again, if only to shove him back.  She didn't want to risk him catching hold of her hands again so she considered her options.  She looked both ways down the hall but for the life of her couldn't remember anymore which way she had come.  

***

        Draco could see the confusion in her eyes.  Enough of playing the pouf.  Any second she was going to bolt, and he wasn't sure there was enough time for a game of cat-and-mouse before classes.  He wanted her _now_.  Time to take this to the next level.

***

        Snape rounded the corner on his way to his classroom, but stopped short when he saw Draco and some little tart pressed against the wall.  Really, the boy was beginning to act entirely too much like his father sometimes.  His first thought was to make his presence known immediately, but then he saw a wisp of chestnut curl emerge from behind the blond boy's head and heard a familiar voice moan "_Please_…." in a much throatier tone than he had ever heard before.  Dear God was _that _why the two of them had been in this hallway last night?  His initial instinct was squashed and as much as it disgusted him, the inner voyeur in him took over.

***

        Hermione had been just about to run for it (she figured it didn't really matter which way she ran, as long as she could put some distance between herself and Malfoy and perhaps get a chance to hex him while she was at it) when she felt his hands on hers again.  She struggled and tried to knee him, but he took away the opportunity by slipping in between her legs with his and pinning her tightly to the wall.  He brought her hands up over her head and held them there with one hand while the other one slid down her arm, the side of her breast, and then back up to hold her jaw.

        "Shhhh…," he murmured, his face so close to hers that she could smell his breath and see just how dilated his pupils were.  She whimpered, but he just held her there.  She could feel him all along her body:  his chest pressing against hers, his outer thighs brushing her inner thighs, and most of all, she could feel him _there_.  It was so hard and _present_, pushing up against her; there was no way to deny it, no way to block out what was happening to her.  She watched him tip his face towards her and thought he would kiss her, but instead he continued to lower his head and brought his lips to the hollow of her throat.  The hand not holding hers had moved up into her hair so she was able to turn away from him.  This only bared her neck more to him, and he was starting to lick along its length.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  "This is _not_ happening, this is _not_ happening.  Think, God damn it!"

        "_Her-mi-o-ne_," he breathed and bucked up against her with his hips.  She gasped and her eyes flew open.  Oh God, why did that feel so…. This was effing _Malfoy_ for God's sake!

        "Please…."  Tears splashed onto her cheeks and he moved up to lap at them with his tongue.

"Please what?  What do you want, Hermione?  Do you want…this?"  She felt his hand slide down to cup her breast.  It was a rough motion, and when he started kneading it she knew there would be bruises.  He was grinding against her again and then his hand left her only to reach inside her robes and head for her waistband.  Instinctively, she bucked against him, trying to avoid his hand, but it only further rubbed against his already straining erection.

"Oh gods! Hermione!  Agh…." he cried suddenly, lifting his head from her and arching his back.  In terror, she felt him spasm once, twice, and then grow slack.  Her hands were freed, and slowly, she sank down until she was huddling herself in a fetal position, fully crying now.  

***

Malfoy continued to loom over her, his forehead touching the spot on the wall she had just abandoned and his hands on either side, supporting his weight.  He was still trying to catch his breath when he heard a rustle of cloth and footsteps.

"_What is the meaning of this?!"_  It was only Snape, but speaking in a tone of voice he had never used on him before.

"Sir, I…."

"Get out of here, Malfoy, before you're late for your first class."

"But what about…."  He gestured towards Hermione.

"I'll take care of her.  And don't _ever_ let me catch you doing this again in the hallways.  It's utterly demeaning.  And to a Gryffindor Mudblood, nonetheless.  I thought you'd have better taste, Malfoy."

Draco gulped.  "You won't…you won't tell Father will you?"

"If you don't leave right this instant I just might do that."

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."  And he was off.  No need to stick around if your father's own lapdog was going to clean up your mess for you.  He almost felt like whistling.  All in all this had been a _most_ enjoyable morning.  Ugh, except he'd need to change first before going to class.  There was no way he was going to walk around all day like _that_.

***

        As soon as Malfoy was gone Severus knelt down besides the weeping girl.  He wasn't sure if she had heard all the words he had exchanged with Malfoy, but he could tell she was aware of his presence because as he drew nearer her cries grew higher pitched and she scrambled to back away from him.

        "Hermione.  Miss Granger, it's all right.  He's gone.  It's only me, Professor Snape."  He ventured a hand towards her.  When she didn't flinch, he rested it on her shoulders.  At the touch, her former mewls turned full-blown sobs of pain.  He wasn't sure who made the first move, but somehow her arms were thrown around his neck and she was crying into his shoulder.  Great big wails of anguish.  He hesitated only a moment before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and stroking her back with one hand.  

        He cursed himself.  He should have known she was not a willing participant in the ugly act he had witnessed.  What could he have possibly been thinking?  And instead of stepping in sooner, he had stood there like a randy teenaged boy and watched the bastard ravage her.  Thank God it had not come to…oh God, would he have remained standing there if it had?  He didn't know.  Didn't want to know.

        He riled against his helplessness.  He couldn't punish the young Malfoy, but how was he to explain that to her?  How to explain to a young, no-longer-innocent-girl that her attacker would not be brought to justice by the institution she so trusted?  It was completely unfair, but it was how it had to be if he wanted to continue his ruse.  Damn, if only someone else could have caught them.  

        As it was, he needed to get the girl somewhere safe for the moment.  He'd have brought her to McGonagall or even Poppy, but he was sure the hallways would be crowded at this time with his Slytherins rushing off to their first class of the day and wanted to spare Hermione any further humiliation.  To his rooms it would have to be then.  Gently, he lifted her up, her arms still around his neck, and carried her to his chambers.  Once inside, he deliberated where to put her.  His bed seemed…too closely associated with what she had just been through, but anywhere else seemed too astringent.  Finally, he settled on transfiguring his sofa into more of a chaise and depositing her there.  She whimpered some as she felt him leave and clung tighter to his neck.

        "Miss Granger, please.  I'm not going to leave you, but I need you to let go of me."

        Obediently, she unclasped her hands and laid back.  He summoned some blankets from his bed and tucked them over her.  Next he summoned a vial of Sleeping Potion and a goblet.

        "Miss Granger, I think it would be best if you drank this.  You've suffered a terrible ordeal and need to rest.  I'll let your teachers know that you've been excused from your classes today."  He poured the purple potion into the goblet and held it to her lips.  She looked at it and then at him.  Red and swollen as they were, her eyes were still fully expressive, and right now they were conveying such trust that it made him catch his breath.  What had he done to deserve that?  She maintained the eye contact as she opened her mouth and drank the full dosage.  Almost immediately her eyes closed and her head fell back.

        He lingered there, watching her breath a few times before rising.  It was with a heavy heart that he picked up some Floo powder and threw it into the fire.

        "The Headmaster's office."

        A few seconds later Dumbledore's head appeared in the green fire.

        "Yes, Severus?  What is it?"

        "There's been…a situation.  Involving Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy, sir."  The old wizard's eyes suddenly lost their twinkle and turned seriously sober.

        "I see.  What has happened now?"

        Severus' demeanor changed as well.  "It's that bastard, Malfoy.  I caught him trying to force himself on Miss Granger.  Fortunately he couldn't control himself and spent prematurely."  The last few words were spoken very dryly.  "I sent him off with a warning and brought Miss Granger to my rooms."

        "Dear God, Severus.  Is she all right?"

        "I'm afraid I don't know, sir.  She was crying rather profusely, but she seemed to respond to my directions.  I've given her a dose of Sleeping Potion so she's currently unconscious.  I thought it would be best under the circumstances."

        "Yes, yes.  You were right to do as you did.  I'll contact Poppy immediately.  Unfortunately there was an accident just now in the fourth year Herbology class.  It seems one of the Hufflepuffs managed to douse half the class in Bubotubor pus and the hospital wing is currently full.  She may need to stay in your rooms until further notice.  Can you find someone to cover for you until we get Miss Granger out of your custody?"

        "Of course.  I'll send the Bloody Baron.  He should keep the second years terrified enough not to do anything stupid."

        "Yes, of course.  And Severus?  Thank you.  I know this is not easy for you."  Snape found that he could only nod.  The headmaster's face disappeared and the fire returned to its normal colors.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

        "Hey Ginny, have you seen Hermione?" asked Ron, with Harry in tow.  The two of them sat down at the dining table across from Ginny, who had already started in on her lunch.

        "No.  Didn't you just have Charms with her?"

        "She didn't show, and when we asked Flitwick where she was, he just said she was excused from the class.  And we checked the library on the way here, so she's not there either."  Ginny glanced up at the head table and saw the empty seat.  She looked at Harry, who in turn indicated by rolling eyes at Ron that he didn't want to say anything while her brother was still there.  They weren't quick enough however, and Ron caught the looks.

        "What is it?  You two have been hiding something from me haven't you?  Well, give."

        "It's nothing Ron.  Don't worry about it."

        "No, Hermione's gone missing, and you two know something about it."

        "Actually, Ron, we don't.  But I do know how to find out where Hermione is."  Both boys looked at each other for a second before Ron's eyes widened in realization.

        "Right, the Marauder's Map!  Come on, let's go get it!"  They took off for their tower with Ginny running to catch up.  When they got to the Fat Lady's portrait, Ron gave the password and scrambled in first.  Before Harry could follow, Ginny grabbed his robes.

        "What do you think you're doing?"

        "What do you mean?"

        "What if the map shows Hermione…?"  She raised her eyebrows for emphasis.

        "Aw, come on.  There's no way the map will show anything that has to do with that note.  I'm sure she's just with the Headmaster or something."  He flashed her a grin.  It was meant to charm her, and it almost worked.  She let go of him, but she still had a bad feeling about this.

***

        "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."  As the lines and dots appeared on the parchment, all three pairs of eyes started to scan it for their friend's name.  Harry and Ginny found it first because, although they didn't want to admit it, their first thought was to look at the lower right hand corner, where the dungeon rooms were drawn.

        "She's not on here!  Where could…oh wait.  What's this?  What's she doing down there?"  He pointed at the still dot occupying the space next to the one labeled "S. Snape."  "Why that greasy git.  Come on, let's go see what he's got her down there for.  He's probably trying to pin her down for some sort of detention or other."  At his words, Harry had a visual which he tried to shake off immediately.

        "Hold on, Ron.  I just remembered.  She's there to, um, start her Occlumency lessons with him.  Don't you remember?"  He quickly elbowed Ginny.

        "Um, yeah.  That's right.  I forgot, too.  Occlumency lessons.  What he said."  Bugger.  She was usually a bit faster than that.  But the thought of Snape on top of Hermione combined with being this close to Harry had caused her to zone out for a bit.

        Ron looked at the two of them suspiciously.  He might be bad at thinking before speaking, but he wasn't a master at Wizard's chess for nothing.  Fine, if that's the way they were going to play….

        "I see," he said contritely.  "Well then, let's go back and eat.  I'm starving!"  The two comrades in deception exhaled with relief as they followed him back down the staircase.  That had been close.  Tonight, they would definitely have to have their talk with Hermione.  What _was _she doing down there with Snape?  As they walked back to the Great Hall, both were perhaps too preoccupied to wonder at the ease in which the third had accepted their misdirection.

***

        "Occlumency lessons.  How thick to they think I am?" thought Ron as he made his way back to his bedroom.  He had told his friend and his sister that he had forgotten his books for his next class so that he had an excuse to leave the dining table early.  When he got to his rooms, he immediately went for the map.  Upon activation, he saw that Hermione was still in the same spot, although Professor Snape's dot had moved.  There was definitely something wrong about this.  He looked again in Harry's chest and fished out his Invisibility Cloak, telling himself that he was only borrowing it.  He had grown much taller in the past year and needed to crouch almost all the way down to completely cover himself.  As an afterthought, he swiped the map too.  It had been four years since he had last been down to that part of the dungeons, and he wanted to make sure that he didn't lose his way.

        It was a good thing that he did, he thought later, as the Confundus charm hit him.  But he knew enough of the slimy Slytherins' ways to know that he was better off trusting the map to his own eyes.  He continued walking straight as the map told him to, even though all he saw was a turn in the corridors.  "It'll be all right, mate.  Just keep walking.  You do this every year to get to Platform 9 ¾."

        His persistence paid off as he walked through the wall and found himself in a straight hallway.  Only a little further to the entrance to Snape's rooms.  Suddenly, he heard footsteps and the sound of Malfoy's drawling voice.  He pressed himself against the wall and held his breath.  Malfoy knew about the Invisibility Cloak, and if he heard anything, it wouldn't take him long to suspect that something was afoot.

        "You should have seen her.  All trembling and scared….  Damn, that Mudblood was delicious!"

        "So you…."  It was either Crabbe or Goyle's thick voice.  He still couldn't tell which.

        "What do you think?"  There was a moment of silence.  Although he couldn't see them, Ron could picture their faces as they tried to do what their ringleader had just told them to do.  Apparently, Draco didn't really expect them to either and answered anyways.  "Of course I did.  Why do you think I was late to class?"

        "Uh…."

        "And here's the best part.  Our dear old Snape took her off my hands.  He was probably watching, that old fool.  Waiting for his chance with the chit.  After all those years of having her act like a know-it-all in his classes, I'm sure he had a few things he wanted to teach her."  In the laughter that followed, Ron almost gave himself away.  He clenched his fists in fury as the adrenaline rushed through him.  "I _knew_ there was something wrong!  I knew it!"  His only consolation was that Harry and Ginny must not have been keeping anything from him; if they knew about this, there was no way in Hades they would have carried on as they had.

        He waited until he heard the footsteps and voices disappear into the Slytherin common room.  Enough of this.  He tore off the cloak, ran to Snape's doors, and pounded on them loud enough to wake the dead.

        "Snape!  You bastard!  Open up!"  In a matter of moments, the doors did indeed open and Ron was pulled inside so quickly he almost lost his balance.  The momentum of his fall was directed by two strong arms so that he was spun around and thrown against the back of the door.  One of the said arms was shoved against his windpipe while the other held a wand directed at his face.  He tried to move but the forearm only pressed tighter, and something told him if he struggled any more he would most likely lose whatever consciousness he still had.

        "Geroff!"

        "Mister Weasley.  If you have any ounce of self-preservation you will do exactly as I tell you to."  Ron tried to nod his head.  "Now I'm going to take your wand and then step away.  If you move or shout I will stun you and then we'll see exactly how much your Gryffindor courage will be of help when you are lying unconscious on my floor."  Ron didn't move, but when Snape searched his robes for his wand, he also did not try to stop him.  Slowly, he felt the pressure lift from his throat until at last he was able to breathe again.  He doubled over and coughed.  Oh, why hadn't he brought Harry with him?

        Snape seemed to have read his mind as his next words were, "It's a good thing you came alone, Mister Weasley, or else I'm sure half of Slytherin would have heard your combined clamors.  As it is, I'm surprised it took this long for one of you to come.  But I forget, you're _Gryffindors_."  

Ron was still hunched over, but he looked up and said with steel in his voice, "Where is she?  What have you done with her?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Mr. Weasley.  That's no way to talk to one of your professors.  Especially if he has you at a disadvantage."

Ron took the time to scan the room.  It was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually he saw her.  She was lying on a chaise in the corner, apparently unconscious.

"Why you…."  He rushed over to her, but Snape was faster.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_  At once, he found he couldn't move and fell over, stiff as a board.  His face was in the ground, but he heard Snape walk calmly over.

"As I was saying, you are in _my_ territory now and you will do as I say.  _Mobilicorpus_."  He levitated Ron over against the wall next to where Hermione lay.  Then he cast the same spell he had used to bind Lupin in the Shrieking Shack on him and for good measure, a silencing charm.  "As you will see, your friend is merely sleeping, not dead.  I don't know what you thought you would find here, but you may be assured, she is safe."  Ron glared at Snape but eventually looked over at Hermione.  It seemed that what he said was true, and he realized that someone had even taken the time to tuck the blankets about her.  It assured him, somewhat.

"But Malfoy…." he mouthed.  He turned his attention to his professor and tried to calm down.  Severus saw that had he managed to strike some sense into the boy and relented, taking off the silencing charm.

"You may speak, but please do not wake her."  Ron nodded and tested his voice.

"Malfoy.  I heard Malfoy outside.  Talking to Crabbe and Goyle.  He said…he said he had…."  Ron struggled to find the right word to say and at the same time remain in control.  "That he had _taken_ Hermione.  And that you…."  He colored as he suddenly realized what he was accusing the man in front of him of.

"I see.  And you believed him.  About me," he said bitterly.

"You mean, you mean it's true?  Not about you, but about what _he_ did?"  A change occurred in Snape's eyes, and Ron was surprised by the amount of emotion that was conveyed in them.  The man looked at him squarely, as if deciding whether he could be trusted with the information.  He breathed deeply before replying.

"Yes," he finally said, softly.  He had averted his eyes when he said it and looked over to the girl.  To Ron, it looked a lot like guilt and he would have reacted accordingly except that Snape was speaking again.  "Yes, Miss Granger was unfortunately assaulted by Mister Malfoy earlier this morning."

"_Unfortunately?!_  You call…."  A swift glare from Snape quieted him again.

"Yes, it was most unfortunate, Mr. Weasley.  And it would have been worse, except apparently Mr. Malfoy came prematurely, and there was no actual intercourse.  No penetration."

"Stop it.  I don't want to hear this.  Stop it!"

"You wanted to know, Mr. Weasley.  Well now you know.  I found them too late.  Although I suppose even if I had gotten there sooner it would still have been too late for Mr. Malfoy.  And Miss Granger."  Ron wanted more than anything to have the use of his arms back.  So he could cover his ears.  Or attack his teacher.  Anything rather than have to stand there and listening to him talk about Hermione this way.

"Regardless, she will still bear the mental and emotional scars of that encounter for quite a while.  Mr. Weasley, are you prepared to help her through this?"  His voice had suddenly become much more urgent.  Demanding, even.

"Of course.  She's my friend.  My best friend.  How could you expect me to just…abandon her?"

"It will be hard, Mr. Weasley.  She will be different.  She may not trust you or Harry right away."

"But…."

"It's not your fault; it's not because of anything you've done.  It's because you're a male.  And she may see anything male as a threat."

"So what is she doing here?  Why isn't she in the hospital wing?  Or with Professor McGonagall?  Why is she still here?"

"That's a good question, my child.  And the answer is that I asked him to keep her here, for the time being," replied a third voice from the fireplace.

"Headmaster!"

"Hello Severus, Mr. Weasley.  I'm sorry if I interrupted you, but it seems that Madam Pomfrey has managed to clear the hospital wing finally.  I think it is time to remove Miss Granger from your rooms, Severus."

"As you see fit, Headmaster."

"Good, good.  I've connected your fireplace to the one in the hospital wing.  Poppy will be waiting on the other side.  And Severus, perhaps it might be prudent to release young Mister Weasley from the full body bind."

"As you wish."  Dumbledore's head disappeared, but the fire remained green.  Severus muttered the counter curse at Ron, who was able to move again, though he was still bound by the magical ropes.  He then walked over to the chaise, and picked Hermione up, blankets and all.  He shifted her higher into his arms and made to walk through the fire.

"Professor, sir.  You forgot about the ropes."

"Pity, Dumbledore forgot to mention them also.  Try not to ruin anything while I'm gone, will you?"  He stepped through the fire and disappeared with Hermione.

"That git!  When I get my hands on him, why, I'll…."  Ron continued to curse and swear at the Potions Master long after he was gone.

-------------------------------------

AN:  If any of you are interested, I'm starting an update list for those who want to be notified through e-mail when I update.  Just send me an e-mail (insperashen@yahoo.com) or mention it in a post.  I'll continue to send update posts to WIKTT so for those of you who don't want their mailboxes clogged you can still check there.  

As always, any critiques and comments are welcome.  =)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

        When Hermione awoke, it was dark already in the hospital wing.  Waking up from a potion-induced sleep was rather different than waking up normally.  "This must be what a hangover feels like," she thought as her mind took over by analyzing and cataloguing exactly what she was feeling.  Her head was a little groggy—like how she felt after waking up from a really long nap.  Aside from that, muscle control:  still lacking.  Her limbs were simply refusing to move as she wanted them to.  She tried swallowing.  Ugh.  She could still taste the last bit of the Sleeping Potion as she swirled her tongue around her teeth.  "Forgot to brush again.  Second time in two days.  What's wrong with me?"

        Of course, it was then that she remembered exactly what was wrong with her.  The memory slammed into her with almost physical force.  She started hyperventilating.

        "Miss Granger!  Miss Granger!  You must try to calm down.  Oh God, where's that potion?  Miss Granger!  Please!"

        She felt a hand on her shoulder trying to hold her down.  Something cold was brought to her lips, and she smelled more of the Sleeping Potion.  She flinched away; her body was finally responding.  Except that the smell had affected her more than she thought.  She rolled over and vomited.

        "Oh my.  Miss Granger.  Here, here."  Someone was pulling her hair back from her face and soothingly rubbing her back.  She realized that it was Madam Pomfrey.  She must be back in the hospital wing.

        When she was done throwing up and coughing, she remained in that position a moment, away from the knowing eyes of the nurse, before finally sitting back up.  Madam Pomfrey was holding a glass for her to drink.  

        "No, I don't want anymore…."  
  


        "Hush, now.  It's only water.  Drink.  It'll make you feel better."  She raised the glass to her lips.  Hermione hesitated a moment to sniff at the contents before opening her mouth.  It was true; the cool water did indeed help, somewhat.  While she gulped away at the water, Madam Pomfrey cast a vanishing spell to clean up the vomit, extending it to apply to Hermione, so that all traces of the vile substance were removed from her mouth.  It was a definite improvement but not enough to quell Hermione's ingrained desire to brush her teeth.

        "Can I…Can I please…," she tried to ask, but her voice was stuck in her throat.

        "What is it, child?"

        "May I please brush my teeth?"  The nurse was surprised by the request but quickly hid her response.

        "Why, yes.  Of course, my dear.  Is there anything else?"

        Hermione started to think, but her mind ran into the barrier that was trauma.  No, not now.  Not yet.  She couldn't deal with that right now.

        "No, thank you."  Pomfrey looked at her charge critically before sighing.

        "I know that you have just endured a most horrible ordeal, Miss Granger, and I want you to know that I…we will do anything we can to help you."  Hermione managed a blank look.  _What did Madam Pomfrey possibly think she could do to help her?_  But she knew it would be better to take the path of contrition for now.

        "Thank you, ma'am.  I understand that.  About that toothbrush?"

        "Yes, of course.  Give me one minute.  I know we keep some spare ones somewhere here."  The school nurse left Hermione's side to look for the toothbrush.  Hermione rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.  How many times had she been here before?  Twice in her second year, and then once again at the end of last year.  By now she knew exactly how many stones made up the ceiling above her.  One thousand, seven hundred and thirty-two.  She looked for the ones she liked the most; the ones that reminded her of something.  There was one almost straight above her that could possibly be an incisor.  To the left was one shaped like a time turner.  The mortar lines leading away from it even made a sort of chain.  And in the far corner was her favorite one:  the one that reminded her of Crookshanks.  It was comforting to know that there were some things would never change, no matter what.

        Madam Pomfrey returned with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a few other amenities.  "Here you go, dear.  While you're in the bathroom, perhaps you'll want to take a bath also?"  Hermione nodded, grateful that she didn't have to ask for the towel, shampoo, soap, and hairbrush that the nurse was holding in the crook of her arm.

        "This way, my dear."  Poppy bent down to put an arm behind Hermione.  She helped her sit up and then allowed her to swing her legs down.  There were slippers waiting for her on the floor.  Once again, she was thankful for the small things.  When she stood, it took second to recover from the head rush.  

        "Steady now.  You've been out and lying down for quite a while."  Hermione let the matron guide her to the bathroom.

        "Here you go.  Take as long as you need.  And let me know if you need anything."  Hermione nodded, but felt she needed to say it one more time.

        "Thank you."  Madam Pomfrey smiled.  

        "There, child.  It will all be all right.  I promise."  Hermione nodded again.  Pomfrey set down what she had been holding and turned to leave.  Before she closed the door, she added, "There's a change of undergarments inside the towel as well."  And she was gone.

        Hermione continued to look at the door for a few minutes before moving.  "Right.  Toothbrush.  You can do this."  It was one of the first things she could remember her parents teaching her to do, even before they taught her to read.  Within the familiarity of the task she was able to find solace.  _Back and forth.  Up and down.  Forty-five degree angle at the gum line.  Front side, top and bottom, back side.  Rinse and spit.  _

She repeated the cycle four more times before she was satisfied.  Her gums were sore and bleeding slightly, but at least her teeth were clean.  Now for the bath.  She turned the tap towards the hottest setting and let the steaming water fill the tub.  She generally preferred showers, since they were quicker and more practical, but in this case, she wanted—no needed—the feeling of being cocooned.  Without thinking, she started to undress.  As she removed her bra, she could feel the tenderness from where Malfoy had groped her.  She looked in the mirror.  Her assumption had been correct; there was a hand-shaped mark on her left breast.  She turned away in shame.  It was as if he had branded her with his mark.  As if he had wanted to remind her that she was his.  

Numbly, she climbed into the bath.  The water was scalding, but she made no cry.  It would only serve to cleanse her of Malfoy's touch that much faster, she reasoned.

***

Madame Pomfrey found her there an hour later, still scrubbing away at her skin until it was raw and almost bleeding in some places.

"Miss Granger!  What are you….  Stop that at once!  Oh, why did I think I could trust you in here all by yourself for so long?"  She tried to seize Hermione's hands, but the girl resisted so fiercely that in the end, she was forced to stun her.  At once, she fell limply back into the bath water.  Poppy scanned her young charge's body critically.  It was not a pretty sight.  "I should have known," she thought to herself deploringly.  She managed to remove her from the bath, dry her down, and wrap a robe around her.  She then levitated her back to her bed and tucked her in.  Another dose of the Sleeping Potion and she would be sleeping until the next morning.  Although Poppy knew the possible side of effects of too much Sleeping Potion, she also knew that it would be safer for Hermione at the moment to remain unconscious.

She went over to the fireplace and threw some of the glittering Floo powder into the fire.  

"The Headmaster's office."

She got down onto her hands and knees and stuck her head in the fire.  When she opened her eyes again, it was Dumbledore's office she saw.  The old man was sitting behind his desk and had turned in his chair to look at her.  She had yet to catch him not looking at her when she talked to him this way, although she had often hoped to surprise him.

"Headmaster."  
  


"Hello, Poppy.  Is everything all right with Miss Granger?"

"Actually, Albus, that's why I wanted to speak with you.  But I'm too old to be talking to you through the fire like this.  Can you and Minerva please meet me in the hospital wing?"

"Of course.  We'll be there momentarily."

"Thank you."

About ten minutes later, the two walked in together.  The Gryffindor Head of House was clearly upset.

"What is it, Poppy?  Albus said you wanted to speak to us regarding Miss Granger."

"Yes, well.  She woke up earlier tonight and started panicking.  I attempted to sedate her, but she resisted the potion I offered her and threw up.  Afterwards, she wanted to brush her teeth.  I suggested that she bathe as well and left her alone in the lavatory.  When she didn't come out after an hour's time I went to check up on her, and I found her…I found her like this."  She had walked them over to Hermione's bed and pulled back the blankets to reveal her bare arms.  They were red with scratches and oozing in some raw patches.  McGonagall gasped, while Dumbledore only shook his head in sympathy. 

"How did this happen?" demanded McGonagall.

"I'm afraid I made the mistake of trusting her by herself.  My guess is that she took to the task of cleansing herself rather severely.  I've heard that it's actually not uncommon behavior for those who have just been sexually assaulted.  I should have considered that, Albus.  I'm sorry.  I have failed you.  And Miss Granger."  She returned the sheets to their prior position and continued to look down, afraid to meet his eyes.

"Now, now Poppy.  Don't be so hard on yourself.  I think I speak for all of us when I say that it is easy to expect Miss Granger to behave as one beyond her years.  She has always, in the past, performed exceedingly well in almost every task set before her, and sometimes we forget that she is still just a child.  And now, most tragically, a child in more need than I fear we can give."

"Albus, perhaps we should contact her parents after all.  I understand your reluctance before, but under the circumstances…."

"No, Minerva.  That will have to be a decision for Miss Granger to make."  McGonagall gave an uncharacteristic snort of objection, but otherwise remained silent.  She looked down in pity at her student.  Of all the people this could have happened to….  It was no secret that Hermione had become a favorite of hers.  She had agreed at first with the headmaster about not contacting her parents because she was afraid they would have pulled her out of the school.  But now….

"Will you inform Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley of her condition?"

"I believe Severus has already spoken to Mr. Weasley."

As McGonagall stared in shock at Dumbledore, Poppy looked away uneasily.  She managed to extricate herself from the conversation on the pretext of needing to take stock of her medicine cabinet.

"How did…why would…?" Minerva asked, clearly still flabbergasted from the headmaster's announcement.  At Albus' benign smile though, she took control of herself and tried to calm down.

"Albus Dumbledore, what possible reason would you have for asking Severus to speak to Mr. Weasley about Miss Granger?"

"Now, Minerva.  I never said I asked him to.  I only managed to interrupt their conversation while I was looking for Severus.  God only knows what he was thinking at the time.  Regardless, the deed is done, and short of yet another memory charm, we will have to trust that Mr. Weasley will be responsible with the information."  A sudden thought occurred to Minerva.

"Albus, you don't think Draco would…."

"No.  Severus has already seen to it.  As soon as he returned to his dungeons, he spoke with Messrs. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.  Neither of the three will be spreading any…rumors, pertaining to Miss Granger."

"Well, that is a piece of good news.  I would hate to think what would happen if word got out that…well, if it became known what happened to Hermione."

"Yes, I suspect Severus had the same idea."

"I see."  Minerva paused.  "I suppose I should thank him."

"There's no need for that now.  I wouldn't want you to choke on a fur ball," said a silky voice.

"Severus!"

"Minerva.  Headmaster.  I came to check on the status of Madam Pomfrey's store of Bubotubor Pus Relief Ointment.  After the accident this morning, I would not be surprised if she needed me to brew some more to restock her shelves."

"Of course, Severus.  I believe Poppy is checking the very same thing at the moment."

"Thank you, headmaster.  If you will excuse me."  Dumbledore and McGonagall parted to allow Snape to walk through.  Minerva noticed with disdain that he did not even pause to look towards the beds, but proceeded to where the medicine cabinet was located.  Before he had a chance to confer with Madame Pomfrey, however, the headmaster called out to him.

"Severus."

"Yes, sir?"

"I thought you might want to know.  Miss Granger awoke earlier, but she is sleeping once more.  It seems that she is still quite shaken from the ordeal."

"I see.  If I can offer any assistance…."

"Perhaps…you could relieve Poppy later of her vigil."

"Of course."

"Thank you, Severus.  For everything."  Snape gave a curt nod in acknowledgement.  There was an awkward silence as he studiously avoided looking at McGonagall while Dumbledore looked at her expectantly.  Finally, she gave in to the headmaster's stare.

"Yes, thank you, Severus.  Your quick actions on behalf of Miss Granger are…appreciated."

"I only did what I would hope you would have done for one of my Slytherins, Minerva."  She had the decency to blush.

"Yes, of course, Severus.  Might I ask, how did you convince Mr. Malfoy and his peers not to speak about the incident?"

"Why, I only reminded them that if Miss Parkinson were to discover that he had been…indiscreet…with Miss Granger, she would certainly raise such a uprorar that Lucius would eventually find out."

"I see."  McGonagall's lips pursed into a slight frown.

"That was good thinking, Severus," said Dumbledore in an effort to maintain the peace.

"Of course, headmaster.  There is a reason, after all, that you appointed me the Head of Slytherin."  He graced them with one last patronizing half-sneer—the most he could get away with in front of the headmaster—before sweeping around in a grand gesture and returning to the medicine cabinet.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
  
Ron sat alone on one of the window ledges up in the Astronomy Tower. He was leaning against the side of the window with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his shins. In his right hand, he played with a piece of carved white marble. From where he sat, he could see the windows of the hospital wing, and though he was too far away to be able to tell for sure, he told himself that one of the dark shapes he saw within was Hermione. He had been there for the last few hours, just watching "her" and thinking. He rubbed absentmindedly at his arms where the ropes had been tied around him.  
  
When Snape had returned to his rooms, he had come through the door instead of the fireplace. By then, Ron had already made his way to the desk and knocked over a few things in the unsuccessful attempt to find something with which to cut his binds. He was currently lying on the ground, where he had finally capitulated to the fact that he was not going to be freed from the magical ropes until Snape came back. He looked up at his professor guiltily, expecting to be yelled at for what he had done. Instead, the owner of the room only took one glance at the mess and muttered the Reparo charm before turning his attention to Ron.  
  
"I believe this belongs to you? Or to Mr. Potter to be exact?"  
  
He threw something soft and shiny in the air at him. It landed on his head and made him blink but surprisingly, did not obscure his vision. The invisibility cloak. Drat, he had left it outside in the hallway.  
  
"Um, thank you.sir." Although he could still see Snape clearly, the cloak did muffle his voice somewhat. Snape walked over to him.  
  
"As much of an improvement to the surroundings it makes, I tire of not seeing whom I am speaking to. If I release you, will you promise not to do anything rash?"  
  
In the last hour or so, Ron had calmed down a great deal as the realization of what happened to his friend had gradually sunk in. Not that he wasn't still enraged at Malfoy, but he also realized that there was no point in misplacing his anger towards the wrong man. Especially if that same man had you tied up and trapped in his rooms.  
  
He nodded in assent, then realized that Snape couldn't see him nod.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Very well. Finite Incantatum." The ropes immediately disappeared. Ron pulled the cloak off his head, then got up to stretch out his muscles.  
  
"Thank you." Snape only glared in return.  
  
"Sit, Mr. Weasley." He indicated the seat Hermione had sat in only the night before and sat down in his own chair behind the desk. Ron debated for a moment whether or not to take the seat, but eventually acquiesced. He wasn't sure why he was still here, except that Snape still had his wand. At least he had been sensible enough to have stuffed the map into his trousers before he had come barging in.  
  
"I suppose you are wondering why I asked you to stay. Believe me when I say it is not because I enjoy your company." Ron barely held back a snort. "Indeed. It is only for Miss Granger's sake that I.that we are having this conversation." It was the first time that he had heard his Potions teacher stumble over his words, and it made Ron sit up and pay closer attention. This must be serious.  
  
"I understand, professor."  
  
"Do you?" Ron chose to ignore his question to ask the one that had been plaguing him ever since he had left.  
  
"Hermione.is she.?"  
  
"She is resting now, in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey is watching over her."  
  
"Why did it take you so long to come back? I mean.."  
  
"No, Mr. Weasley. It was not because I wanted you to suffer longer than necessary." He certainly looked to Ron as if he did, though. "I needed to speak to Mr. Malfoy and his friends. The timing was.sensitive."  
  
"So how is he going to be punished? Is he going to be expelled?"  
  
"You don't understand, Mr. Weasley. It's not as simple as that."  
  
"What do you mean? After what he did to Hermione.you can't possibly just let him get away with that!"  
  
"Calm down, Mr. Weasley. I have no intention of letting the little bastard go unpunished. Unfortunately, as far as disciplining him through direct means, my hands are tied."  
  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" Ron had shot out of his seat and almost thrown himself at his teacher. Snape, meanwhile, had not even flinched. He regarded Ron with all the coolness of a cat watching its prey.  
  
"I would have hoped that you would have figured it out for yourself by now. I see that the time I gave you to think here, alone, has not made you any wiser. Pity. But tell me this. If I were to expel Mr. Malfoy, just think of how the news would spread through Hogwarts and no doubt throughout the rest of the wizarding world. Think of the repercussions. They'll demand to know why, and we'll have to tell them. Just imagine of the impact that would have on your friend's reputation. Is that what you want to happen to her? Or was that article about her in the Daily Prophet during your fourth year not enough for you?"  
  
"You.how dare you? You were the one who read it aloud in class!"  
  
"I have no reason to explain my actions to you, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Ron shook with fury and glared at the man. He was infuriating as hell, but he was right. At least about the reactions Malfoy's expulsion would have on Hermione. He would do anything to spare her further pain. Which was why instead of responding, he picked up the closest thing to his hand and threw it at the wall, screaming in frustration. It was so damn bloody unfair!  
  
Snape watched the boy throw his tantrum but made no move to stop him. It was what he wished he could do at the moment, but as he couldn't express himself in the same way, observing the boy wreak havoc on his study was allowing him to relieve at least some of his anger vicariously.  
  
At last, Ron, running out of things to throw and kick in the room, threw himself back into the chair, slightly out of breath. He was still shooting daggers at Snape, but they were focused now with an icy determination.  
  
"You wanted to talk to me. Why? What can I do?"  
  
The corner of Snape's mouth lifted in amusement. It seemed as if the once- impetuous boy was now able to control his Weasley temper when he wanted to. Good, he would need that. Snape continued in the same soft voice, as if nothing had happened.  
  
"You are one of the only five students that know of what happened this morning. I have already seen to it that Mr. Malfoy and his two friends will not be speaking of his.conquest.to anyone else. That leaves you and Miss Granger."  
  
"If I chose to, I could obliviate you with the mere flick of a wand." To emphasize his point, he took out his wand and pointed it at Ron for a moment before casually twirling it in his hand. "However, I have reason to believe that there may be much more to be gained if I do not. I understand that it was because of you that Mr. Potter and Miss Granger were able to pass the Enchanted Chess Board during your first year." The sudden change of topic startled Ron.  
  
"What does that.?"  
  
"Kindly refrain from interrupting me again, Mr. Weasley." He paused in the middle of one particularly complicated wand sequence and pointed it at his desk, where a chessboard appeared. "As I was saying, your accomplishments in the ways of chess have been well noted by Professor McGonagall. Repeatedly," he said with distaste evident in his voice. "Pity they don't translate as well onto the Quidditch field."  
  
That had been a test, and Ron knew it. If possible, the glare he gave Snape grew even more murderous; however, he remained silent and allowed his teacher to continue.  
  
"Not many students possess the type of strategy needed to foresee all the possible outcomes of a single move on the chessboard. Nor do they see that sometimes, in order to win the game, certain sacrifices must be made." He waved his wand over the chessboard, and the pieces began to move. "While you may have mastered the chessboard, you will find that in real life, there is no similar set of rules, no boundaries to prevent your enemy from taking you by surprise." He tapped the surface of the chessboard with his wand. Suddenly, the pieces on the board, which up till now had been abiding by the rules of regular Wizarding chess, began to all move at the same time in a chaotic fashion. It made no sense to watch; the pieces were moving without any regard to their station.  
  
"Cedric Diggory found that out the hard way." One of the white knights was beset and destroyed by the black king. "As, I believe, did Miss Granger." The black king had turned his attentions to the white queen and was about to drive his scepter into her when Snape rescued her by lifting her off the board. At once, the board and all its pieces disappeared, except for the one in his hand. Although still visible and tangible, the white queen had lost the ability to move and was now only a frozen sculpture. He rolled the piece in his hand, admiring its beauty. It did not resemble Hermione physically, but that did not matter. He lifted his eyes from the chess piece only to find Ron gaping at him. As the mask of hardened detachment once again covered his face, he set the piece of marble down in front of Weasley. Though he said nothing, the implication was clear. The next move is yours.  
  
There was silence as Ron stared at the queen. He still wasn't sure what Snape was getting at, and he was deathly afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. Finally, he reached forward tentatively, keeping his eyes on his professor. When nothing changed on Snape's face to indicate disapproval, he picked it up. It was a lot lighter than it looked. In fact, he would go so far as to say that it was weightless in his hands. He looked questioningly at Snape, who was now standing and holding his wand out to him.  
  
"Be responsible, Mr. Weasley, with what has been given you. I would be most displeased if I found that my trust has been misplaced." Ron took the wand back with surprise written all over his face. The way the man in front of him was acting now was so unlike the Snape he had known for the last six years that he found himself gaping at his former tormentor. "Go, Mr. Weasley, before I decide to take off points just for the look on your face."  
  
"Y-yes, sir."  
  
Instead of returning to the Gryffindor tower though, he found himself making his way up to the top of the Astronomy tower, where he sat now. Finally, the lights in the hospital wing were turned off and he could no longer see inside. He sighed and got up. There was no point in sitting here any longer. Harry and Ginny would probably be fraught with anxiety over his and Hermione's disappearance by now. He walked slowly down the stairs and back towards his common room, dreading the moment he would have to see them.  
  
***  
  
"Ron! Where have you been! Where's Hermione? You.why are you so cold?" As soon as Ginny had seen her brother enter the common room, she ran to him and embraced him. For once, he did not shrug her off right away, but held her close, relishing the warmth and the comfort.  
  
"It's okay, Ginny. I've just been outside for a while." He looked up to see Harry behind her. "Harry, I'm sorry, mate. I borrowed your cloak and the map without asking." Harry gave him a hesitant smile.  
  
"It's okay, Ron. We figured you had taken them." And then a pause, because he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. "Did you find her?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What happened?" asked Ginny from beneath Ron's chin. He let go of her.  
  
"We need to go somewhere private." Harry nodded in understanding.  
  
"We can use the Room of Requirement." Ron brought out the cloak and the three of them slipped underneath. He remembered painfully all the times the three of them, Harry, himself, and Hermione, had snuck around under the cloak. It would never be the same, he realized. He got out from underneath.  
  
"I'm too tall. We can't all fit. You two use it. I'm a prefect; it'll be all right. If anyone catches us, I'll just tell them I was looking for a teacher." The two made no protest, and they proceeded to the entrance. As the portrait closed behind them, the Fat Lady piped up.  
  
"Going out back out so late, dearie? It's past curfew, you know." Ron ignored her, as usual. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you," she responded huffily.  
  
Even without Ron under the cloak, the going was slow. Harry put his arm around Ginny in an effort to synchronize their movements. At least, that's what he told himself.  
  
Finally, they arrived at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the perpetually failing ballet lesson. Walking past the familiar spot on the wall three times, they each concentrated on needing a place where they could speak without anyone else hearing. After the third pass, door appeared in the wall as usual, but when they opened it, they discovered a room much different from the one they used to practice in. For one thing, it was tiny. Barely twice the size of a broom closet. And it was practically bare. Just a circular hole-about five feet wide and a foot deep-cut into the floor and in the middle of that, another smaller, concentric hole cut again about a foot deep. The entire floor, including the surfaces lining the holes, was covered with carpet. A lamp hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a warm glow, and a few cushions were placed on the middle lowered ring. Harry was the first to figure out the function of the oddly shaped floor. He scrambled out from under the cloak and climbed in.  
  
"It's like a sofa. For just the three of us." He sat down to show them. Ginny folded away the cloak and joined him while Ron closed the door behind them. "I guess we really didn't need anything elaborate this time," Harry said, although he was a little disappointed.  
  
As they sat down, the three of them formed the points of an isosceles triangle, with Harry and Ginny sitting slightly closer together and across from Ron. Ginny spoke first, leaning forward and putting a hand on his knee.  
  
"So what happened Ron? Why were you gone for so long? And where's Hermione?"  
  
Ron found he couldn't look her in the eye. He studied her hand for a second, then looked up at Harry. He was watching Ron patiently, trusting him to tell the story at his own pace. Ron looked back down at his own hands again before starting.  
  
"Well, I suppose you figured out where I went after I left lunch." He proceeded to tell them the whole story, or at least, as much as he knew. By the end, Ginny was clinging to Harry and crying. Harry had an arm around her but was looking gravely at Ron.  
  
"What do you think he meant?" he asked. Ron, who had not looked up once during the telling, now brought his eyes to meet Harry's.  
  
"I.I think he means for me, for us, to somehow get back at Malfoy. He wants us to do what he can't do." It was clearly not the most intuitive of responses, considering their history with the Potions Master. However, given all the allusions and information that Snape had chosen to share with him, it had been his final conclusion after the hours-long mediation on top of the Astronomy Tower.  
  
Harry nodded. The grudge he had held against Malfoy ever since the train ride during the first year had suddenly turned into something far more serious than a schoolboy rivalry.  
  
"He's ours." There was a hardness in his voice that far surpassed Angelina's during Quidditch practice. Ron regarded his best friend of six years with a new type of awe. As unsettling as it had been for Snape to have treated him almost decently before, it was much more discomforting to see those familiar green eyes burning with barely controlled fury.  
  
Ginny sniffled once more into Harry's shoulder, and immediately, the fire was lost. He looked down at her tenderly.  
  
"Come on, Ginny. We should head back now." She nodded and sniffed but made no move to rise. "Come on." He rubbed her back and propelled her forward. They stood up together.  
  
Ron eyed the two of them. A day ago, he wouldn't have caught on to it. But now, after what seemed a lifetime, he was able to see how Harry had automatically shoved aside his own need for revenge for his sister's sake and how she had naturally gone to him for comfort, instead of her own brother. At any other time, he would have said something, but he was too emotionally drained to find the right words. He had known it was bound to happen and wondered if they even knew how right they were for one another. It was something, he realized, that he would never have with Hermione, no matter how much he wished for it. It didn't matter though, he thought as they left the room. He would still always be there for her, if only as a friend.  
  
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AN: I've moved my author's notes to my LJ. Check my profile for the link. =) 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

  
The next few days passed almost uneventfully for the majority of students in Hogwarts. Hermione's classmates and roommates were told by the proper authorities that she was indisposed and residing in the hospital wing. When pressed, they were told that she had somehow acquired the dragon pox and, as it was highly contagious, was being held under quarantine. Upon hearing this, both Lavender and Parvati immediately gave a frightened yelp and ran off to the nearest mirror to check their faces for signs of purple spotting. Later, Harry and Ron heard that they had burned Hermione's sheets. They also looked wary every time either of them approached, as if they might have contracted the disease too.  
  
Draco had a hard time wiping the smug look off his face every time he saw the empty seat at the Gryffindor table during mealtimes. The angry stares he received from her two friends did nothing to dampen his glee. Only once did he lose his confidence, and that was the day they had had éclairs for dessert. He had looked up from his dish only to see Harry staring at him. Once he had caught Malfoy's eye, he had raised his hand- which was clenched about an éclair-into view and squeezed it violently, shooting the cream filling all over Lavender, who was sitting next to him. Draco couldn't believe it. The Boy Who Lived was actually smirking. At him.  
  
In the Potions N.E.W.T.'s class, he realized that not having a partner was going to be detrimental to his grade. It was almost impossible to finish brewing a potion that was supposed to take two sets of hands when you only had one. He had expected Snape to somehow take this into account when he graded their assignments and was therefore surprised when he received his first Unsatisfactory, ever, in Potions. He was about to protest, but the look his Head of House gave him at that moment told him it would be better to stay silent.  
  
Although both Ron and Harry wanted to visit Hermione, in the end, only Ginny went. Apparently, Ron had considered what Snape had told him and convinced Harry that it would be better if she didn't see them so soon after the attack. Harry conceded grudgingly. To compensate, he and Ron gave Ginny, between the two of them, an armload of Chocolate Frogs to give to her.  
  
Which was why she was currently standing in front of the doors to the hospital wing, wondering how on earth she was going to knock when she couldn't free either one of her hands. She settled for tapping the door with her elbow. It made a rather insignificant sound that she was sure would be swallowed up by the vastness of the castle, but in a few moments, the door was opened by Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Come in, dear. Oh my, are all of those for Miss Granger?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. They're from Ron and Harry." A few spilt over and Madam Pomfrey made to catch them.  
  
"How thoughtful of them. Unfortunately, Miss Granger has been on a rather strict diet. That is to say...."  
  
"She hasn't been eating?" The nurse gave her a penetrating look and nodded. "Has she...has she said anything yet?" Once again she regarded Ginny before speaking.  
  
"I suppose you already know what's happened to her." It was Ginny's turn to nod. "I won't lie and tell you that her recovery has been going well. She obviously needs something more than what I can give her, but she refuses to let us send for her parents and has asked for no one else. I quite simply do not know what to do." They stopped before the curtained-off area that Ginny assumed was where Hermione was lying. "I truly hope, Miss Weasley, that you will be able to help her, for I am afraid her condition is beyond me. I was trained to heal the body, not the soul." She pushed aside the curtains to reveal her patient.  
  
Ginny was almost prepared for what she saw. Similar to the last time she had seen her, Hermione's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. There were no signs of crying though. And when Ginny dropped the confections onto her table beside her, she seemed to react to the sound. Taking this as a good sign, Ginny reached to smooth back a curl that had made its way loose from the rest of the older girl's hair.  
  
Hermione flinched from her hand and turned her head so that it was facing the wall. Ginny looked over at Madam Pomfrey, who only thinned her lips.  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I think…I think I'll just sit here with her for a while, if that's all right?"  
  
"Of course. You'll let me know if anything changes?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." The nurse closed the curtains behind her. Ginny drew up a chair and sat down.  
  
"Hermione, it's me. Ginny. Harry and Ron…they…they thought I should come first. They brought you a whole bunch of Chocolate Frogs though." When that brought no response, she leaned closer and continued speaking.  
  
"We're all worried about you, Hermione. Dumbledore and McGonagall told everyone that you have dragon pox, but Harry and Ron and I, we know what happened. Ron heard Malfoy talking about it, and then Professor Snape…well, Ron told the two of us.  
  
"We're going to get him back, Hermione. I promise you. So, don't worry about him, all right?" There was no change. Ginny wished more than anything that her mother could be here with her. She would know all the right things to say. But she was here, by herself, and growing more and more concerned by the minute.  
  


"Please, Hermione. We need you to come back to us. We all miss you so much, and Harry…. I think he's taking it harder than any of us. He thinks it's his fault that…." She fell silent, because she wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. So she tried another one.  
  
"You're the closest thing I have to a big sister, Hermione. I always imagined you and Ron would get married, and that we would really become sisters. But seeing you like this…. Hermione, you have to tell us how to help you." She had said the last line desperately, not really expecting a response. So she was surprised when she heard her say something from the other side of the bed.  
  
"What...what did you say?" Hermione turned to look at Ginny.  
  
Hermione's voice was rough from misuse, but words were clear. Still in shock, but elated, Ginny ran to get the nurse.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! She spoke! She spoke to me! She asked for...." And then it hit her. "She asked for Professor Snape!" she whispered in wonderment.  
  


  
***  
  


  
Severus glowered irritably at the face in the fire.  
  
"What is it Albus? Can't you see I'm in the middle of brewing something?"  
  
"Actually, Severus, it's a little hard to see anything from this angle, but I'll take your word for it." Snape changed his look to the one he had given Longbottom after he had managed to melt his cauldron for the fourteenth time during the fourth year, and as usual, it did nothing to faze the headmaster.  
  
"I've just been informed by Madam Pomfrey that Miss Granger has asked to see you." Snape almost dropped the vial he had been holding.  
  
"I see."  
  
"I think it would be of great help, Severus, if you would go to her. As you probably already know, she hasn't spoken to anyone since the first night, and Poppy is worried. I grant you, her choice of visitors is a little puzzling, but perhaps you'll be able to discern what she wants." Severus was a little annoyed with the lack of seriousness he detected in Dumbledore's voice but refrained from showing it.  
  
"Of course, headmaster. I'm on my way." He set down the vial and quickly cleared away the experimental potion he had been working on. Between teaching classes, his responsibilities as the Head of Slytherin, and spying on Lord Voldemort, he had very little free time, and it had taken him six weeks to set this one up. But curiosity, and perhaps something else, spurred him to make his way to the hospital wing in haste.  
  
As he approached the doors, he slowed down to collect himself. You don't know what she wants, he told himself. If anything, she probably remembers what you said to Malfoy and wants to slap you again. He remembered the feeling of her hand on his face though, both times, and decided it was worth the risk.  
  
His knock was answered by Madam Pomfrey, who looked at him levelly, almost accusingly.  
  
"Dumbledore has told you."  
  
"Yes. May I?"  
  
She frowned, but opened the door a little wider to let him in.  
  
"I don't know why she's asked for you, of all people, but I'm willing to respect her wishes, for now. Don't," she said harshly, "even think about disturbing her. I know you can be civil when you want to, and I expect only the best of bedside manners from you." She spoke to him as if he was still the same sixteen-year-old that she had healed after the incident beneath the Whomping Willow. And it would have worked on any other person, but even at sixteen, he had been able to ignore the brusqueness of the otherwise competent nurse.  
  
"How long ago did she…?"  
  
"It was only a few minutes ago. Miss Weasley was with her at the time." He nodded. Ginny Weasley was one of the few Gryffindors he actually approved of, not that he would admit it to anyone. For someone to have survived the possession of the Dark Lord, and to have done it in her first year, took a certain amount of strength that even he had to appreciate.  
  
Madam Pomfrey walked with him to the back of the wing. Hers was the only bed with the curtains drawn around it. He was about to pull them aside, but he stopped to look at Madam Pomfrey. She held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "I'll leave the two of you alone, then. Do not, I repeat, do not agitate her. You've seen how fitfully she sleeps. No doubt her nerves are frayed enough as it is." He continued to stare at her until she finally turned and left with a _hmphf_.  
  
"Bloody Slytherin. Thinks he can outstare me…." he heard her mumble as she walked out of earshot.  
  
He pulled the curtains apart. The only differences he could see were that there were now an insane amount of Chocolate Frogs on her nightstand and that her eyes were now open. He had spent the better part of the last two nights watching her as she slept. Both times he had been sure to leave before it was close to time for her to wake up. Poppy had been right before. She had not slept well, constantly shifting and turning in her sheets. There had been times when she had cried out, and he had held her hand and wiped her brow as he whispered words of safety and comfort to her. Last night, she had held onto his hand and not let go when she eventually fell back asleep. He had allowed her to hold it until it had been time for him to go. He had been certain that she had not recognized him. Now, he was not so sure.  
  
Her eyes beheld him in almost the same way they had the night he had returned from the Death Eater's meeting. There was the trust, as always, but now, instead of the comfort he had found before, there was a look of wild desperation, as if he were the last copy of Magical Me left at Flourish and Blotts.  
  
"You came," she whispered, and by her tone, he could tell that she hadn't been sure that he would.  
  
"Yes." At the sound of his voice, she closed her eyes and kept them closed for a breath before opening them. He was still there.  
  
"What is it you wan-…why did you ask for me?" He had wanted to maintain his distance, but found himself too impatient for formalities. He was starting to feel anxious, something he was not used to. Even when his Dark Mark activated and he went to Voldemort…at least then he knew more of what to expect than he did now.  
  
Hermione was looking at him now with dread. He shouldn't have snapped at her. Any second now, she would start crying again…. Except she didn't.  
  


Eventually he sat down, telling her without words that he was going to stay and listen. It gave her the courage to proceed.  
  
"In the books you recommended for me…."  
  
Oh God, had he just abandoned his experiment to answer a question about a book? His frustration must have shown because she had stopped talking. He sighed. What was done was done.  
  
"Yes?" There, that had been gentle enough, spoken without the usual snide undertones.  
  
"I wanted to ask you…that is, I mean…. They talked about using a Pensieve, to prepare oneself, before a lesson. I wanted to know.if we…if we were going to use one."  
  
Severus sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Damn. He had almost forgotten about those lessons. At least, he had hoped that she had forgotten them. What kind of rape victim—even if it was only attempted—would possibly think about voluntarily having her mind violated again and again in much the same way, even if it was for the purposes of education? He was starting to reconsider her sanity when the rest of her question hit him. She had asked about using a Pensieve. Of course. Now it made perfect sense.  
  
"How much do you know about Pensieves, Miss Granger?"  
  
Before she began to answer, she realized that this was probably the first time he had directly asked her an academically related question. And her hand wasn't even in the air.  
  
"Well, from what Harry told me and what I could find in the library, a Pensieve is a receptacle for one's memories. You choose which ones to put in there, and it allows you to analyze them more objectively. Once you put a memory in there, you don't forget about it, per say, but it lets you detach yourself from the memory. It becomes something you see, and remember, in the third person. Like a movie."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Oh, sorry. A movie; it's a Muggle term."  
  
"I see. And Muggles have something akin to a Pensieve?"  
  
"No, they don't."  
  
"Then how do they deal with the memories they'd rather not relive?"  
  
"Well, they…oh. Oh." The realization in her eyes told Snape that he had been right in his assumption.  
  
"You're not the first to have thought of using a Pensieve in this way, you know."  
  
"I never said…."  
  
"That wasn't an accusation."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I was merely trying to point out to you why we in the magical community do not resort to the use of Pensieves whenever something happens that we'd rather forget.  
  
"The reality of it is, when one inputs their memories, they must be careful not to choose ones that carry too much emotional weight. The more traumatic the experience, the more unstable the physical manifestation of the memory. You'll remember Barnabas the Barmy from History of Magic?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"He witnessed his wife's murder at the hands of Grindelwald. When he tried to use a Pensieve to rid himself of the memory, it backlashed and, well, I'm sure you've seen the tapestry."  
  
"I…I didn't know."  
  
"Well now you do." As he watched her process this new information, he thought back to the memories he had put into Dumbledore's Pensieve. The one involving the day he took his Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.'s had been as painful as he dared to draw out. God only knows how he wished he could have taken out the memory of the Whomping Willow, or his initiation into the Death Eaters.  
  
"So...then...." She was slipping back into the darkness, and he could feel it. Instead of allowing her to return to the clutches of depression, he reached for her with the only thing he could think of that would persuade her to grab hold. He appealed to her sense of scholasticism.  
  
"Miss Granger, do you know, that in the three days you wasted by lying here, that you have missed close to fifteen hours of class time? Not to forget the requisite hours needed to complete the assigned homework and revisions?"  
  
"But…."  
  
"How do you expect to finish your N.E.W.T.'s, much less graduate if you keep this up much longer? I am sorely tempted to withdraw you from the accelerated Potions course I enrolled you in."  
  
"No! Please don't!" She sat up, the first time she had done so in days. The head rush made her quite dizzy and her vision blurred. When it cleared again, she saw that Madam Pomfrey had entered and was looking rather annoyed at Snape.  
  
"I told you not to disturb her! I should have known...." Snape looked ready to vituperate in response, but Hermione rushed to defuse the situation.  
  
"It's all right, Madam Pomfrey. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry." The nurse looked at Hermione critically. There was color in her cheeks again, and a spark had returned to her eyes. The girl was definitely improved since the last time she had seen her. Poppy looked again to the Potions Master. Apparently he had done some good, after all.  
  
"Nevertheless, the hour is late, and I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, Professor."  
  
"Very well." He stood up. "Miss Granger, I would advise you to consider what I have just told you. If I do not see you at breakfast tomorrow morning, I will assume you have decided to drop Potions."  
  
"Severus! You cannot possibly expect her to.."  
  
"On the contrary. I believe Miss Granger has seen the insides of this," his eyes swept across the barrenness of her surroundings, "room long enough. Good night, Poppy. Good night, Miss Granger." Without another word he left the two women staring after him with two very different expressions on their faces: Madame Pomfrey's jaw had dropped in shock, while Hermione's eyes were shining with renewed determination.  
  


Later on, after Madam Pomfrey had tucked her back in and told her to get her rest, Hermione's hand snuck out from under her blankets and reached for the first of many Chocolate Frogs.  
  
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	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

        The next morning saw a weak, though much improved Hermione sitting at the breakfast table.  The reactions of her fellow Gryffindors were varied.  Lavender and Parvati stopped in their tracks, muttered greetings and felicitations for her recovery, and then proceeded to sit at the other end of the table.  She heard them muttering something about the communicability period of dragon pox as they passed by her.  When Ginny saw her, she squealed with delight and ran to give her a hug.  Ron and Harry were just as pleased but more hesitant in their approach.  After she had peeled Ginny away from her, she looked at the two boys and gave them a subdued grin.

        "Hi Harry.  Hi Ron.  Um, thanks for all the Chocolate Frogs, guys.  Madam Pomfrey said she's never seen anyone recover so quickly from malnourishment before."  Ron's eyes widened in surprise.

        "You didn't eat _all_ of them, did you?"  Hermione couldn't help but laugh.  It felt good to laugh again.

        "No, do you honestly think I'd be here right now if I had?  I'd probably still be in the hospital wing, throwing up all over the place."

        "It's good to see you back, Hermione," said Harry.

        "Thanks.  Look, I'm sorry for making you all worry so much about me.  There were just…some things I had to get through."  Well if that wasn't about _the_ biggest understatement ever uttered by a Gryffindor….  

No one else was sitting close to them, so the three sixth years were reduced to looking at each other in awkward silence.  Although all three were aware that the other two knew about the incident, no one wanted to be the first to bring it up.  Yet what had happened was too significant to just ignore.  Eventually, Ginny relieved the tension by asking a question that only peripherally touched upon the events of the last few days.

        "What was it you wanted to speak to Professor Snape about?"

        "Oh, um, it was nothing."  At their continued stares, she relented.  "I had a theory about something and wanted to ask him about it.  That's all."

        "Huh, leave it to Hermione to summon that bat out of his dungeons just to ask him a question about Potions," said Ron.

        "Did he actually go?" asked Ginny.

        "Actually, he did.  But I was wrong.  About the theory."

        "Oh."

        Just then, the owl post came and everyone's attentions were momentarily diverted.  Hermione took the moment to glance up at the head table and caught Snape looking her way.  Instead of turning away immediately as she expected him to, he casually arched one eyebrow and nodded as he raised his goblet to her before turning to speak to Professor Flitwick.  Both motions were performed so quickly and tightly that no one else would have noticed them unless they were also staring straight at him.

        A warmth suffused Hermione's stomach that had nothing to do with the hot tea she was drinking.  Professor Snape had actually saluted her!  In front of everybody!  She could almost imagine him giving her another point for Gryffindor.  Almost.

It was much different seeing him in this setting, with her friends around her and with the other teachers around him.  Not only were they separated by so much physical space, but also by the bounds of student and teacher, Gryffindor and Slytherin.  She briefly wondered if the closeness she was starting to feel when she thought of him was only one-sided, or worse, imagined, especially now that she had no more reason to speak with him.

Wait, that wasn't true.  She still had her scheduled appointment with him tomorrow, for the Occlumency lessons.  Without knowing it, she smiled at the thought.

        Ron couldn't help noticing her smile and followed her gaze to the front of the room.  _Snape_.  What _was_ going on between the two of them?  Though he assumed that their former hostilities were to be cast aside under the terms of their strange truce, it didn't mean that he was prepared for Hermione and Snape to be acting so chummy all of a sudden.  He had wondered about what purposes the professor had for soliciting his help in paying back Draco.  Sure, he was a teacher and a member of the Order, but he was also a Slytherin and had always seemed to favor the young Malfoy.  Ron was starting to suspect that the reason may have been a more personal one…with regards to Hermione.  And that was something he most definitely was _not_ going to sit back and allow to happen, no matter how cooperative the professor was acting these days.  He felt sickened by the mere thought of it.  How very Slytherin it would be of Snape to rescue Hermione, only to seduce her.  He made a note of it to keep a much more careful eye on the two of them from now on.

***

        The next evening Hermione attempted to sneak out of the Gryffindor common room.  Her "honor guard" (as she had come to think of them as they had followed her everywhere the last two days; the two boys had even followed her into the bathroom once before she shooed them out) was currently preoccupied.  Ginny was studying with her classmates, and Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus were busy playing Exploding Snaps.  All she had to do was cross the room without anyone noticing her.

        And she almost made it too, except that Ron had looked up at the last second to see her foot disappear behind the swinging portrait door.  He threw down his cards and got up.

        "Sorry, mates.  I forgot, prefect's meeting tonight."  Dean and Seamus protested, but Harry just gave him a knowing look and did nothing to stop him from leaving.  

        Ron waited for a minute before following Hermione out the door.  Although he couldn't see her, he suspected he knew which way she was headed and made towards the dungeons.  His suspicion proved correct when he caught up with her in the hallway of the Potions classroom.

        "Hermione," he called, reaching for her arm.  Except that she had already spun around with her wand ready and shouted "_Expelliarmus_!"  The force of the spell sent Ron flying backwards several feet before he hit the wall behind him and fell.  It took Hermione a few moments to regain her composure.  Her heart was pounding and she was having a hard time catching her breath.  Finally, she recognized the red headed boy for who he was.

        "Sod it, Ron!  What are you doing here?  I could have…."

        "Ow….  Hermione, why'd you have to go and do that?"  He rubbed the back of his head that had hit the wall.  Hermione went over to him and knelt down beside him.

        "I'm sorry, Ron.  Are you all right?  It's just that…you gave me such a fright!  I thought…I thought you were Draco at first."  At her words, he felt disgusted with himself.  He hadn't thought about…hadn't realized that this was where….

        "Oh God, Hermione, I'm so sorry.  I shouldn't have…..  I just wanted to see where you were going.  You left without telling anyone."

        "Oh Ron.  You know you can't keep following me everywhere.  I mean, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but there are some things I have to do alone."

        "Like this?  What are you doing down here anyways?  I know you don't have Potions anymore, so you can't be down here for that."

        Truth or lie, truth or lie?  Hermione saw the suspicion in his eyes as he waited for her to answer.  Truth, then.

        "I'm here to start my Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."

        "Uh huh.  I've heard that one already.  How thick do you think I am?  What are you really doing here?"

        "What are you talking about?  It's the truth," she said desperately.  She needed to get him out of here soon, or she would be late for her appointment.

        "Then why did you sneak off like this?  You could have told Harry or me.  We would have walked down with you."

        "You know how Harry feels about Snape.  It wouldn't be fair of me to ask him.  And I…I didn't think you would approve."

        "Well, you're right, I don't.  What's come over you recently?  I saw the way you looked at Snape at breakfast yesterday.  If I didn't know any better…."  Hermione was angry now.  She stood up with her hands on her hips so that she was staring down at him.

        "Are you accusing me of…of _liking_ Professor Snape?!"  Ron blanched.  Her voice had become amazingly similar to his mother's Howlers.  He got up too, so that now he had the height advantage.

        "Well what else am I supposed to think?  You ask for him to visit you in the hospital wing, and the next morning you're all better, and then I catch you making moon eyes at him.  I mean, it's not like it's the first time you've liked a professor."

        "That is by far the dumbest thing you have ever said to me, Ronald Weasley."

        "Fine, just tell me what you're really doing down here then."

        "I told you already.  I'm here for Occlumency lessons with Snape."

        "Oh no you're not.  You're coming back with me with right now.  You're not spending any more time with that greasy git."  He grabbed her arm and was about to pull her along with him, but she yanked herself out of his grip and raised her wand at him again.  She was furious now; the hand holding her wand was even shaking a little.

        "Don't you _ever_ touch me like that again!  You…you…!  Argh, just leave, Ron.  Now.  Before I hex you."  He stared at the wand pointed at him and then at the girl holding it.  She was serious.

        "Fine.  I'm gone."  He held his hands up to show surrender.  "If you're not back by curfew though, I'm telling Professor McGonagall."

        "Fine.  Now leave."  He walked backwards a few steps with his hands in the same position before turning around and storming out of sight.  Slowly, she lowered her wand.  Bloody hell, how was she supposed to start her lessons in Occlumency like this?  She was way too agitated, but if she didn't go, she would lose her chance.  She checked the time.  _Damn it!  I'm late already_.  Smoothing back her hair, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths.  _It'll be all right.  Just breathe.  Breathe._  Finally, when she felt her heartbeat return to normal, she made her way to Snape's office.  She raised a fist to the door and knocked.  From the other side, she heard a voice say, "Come in."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hermione opened the door but did not cross the threshold. Inside, Professor Snape was sitting behind his desk, apparently grading papers by candlelight. He looked up with annoyance to see who had disturbed him, but upon seeing whom it was, relaxed. 

"Miss Granger. May I ask what you're doing here at this hour?" 

Her heart fell. He had forgotten. She started to back out of the doorway.

"I...I'm sorry. I had thought...that we had agreed to meet at this time. I...I must have been mistaken." She had almost succeeded in closing the door behind her when she heard him call after her.

"Miss Granger. Please." She turned around but kept her eyes to the floor. "I had thought you would have dismissed the idea of commencing with our Occlumency lessons. I must say, I am rather..._surprised_ that you decided to keep our appointment." She looked up then, to see what he had meant by "surprised". Hope sprung when she realized that he was not sneering at her, but was actually looking at her with a fair amount of curiosity and, though she might have been mistaken, possibly admiration. 

"I would very much like to continue, that is, to proceed with the lessons, if you're willing. To help Harry, of course," she added, as an afterthought. When she made no further move to come in, he put down his quill and sighed.

"Miss Granger, it would be very hard to instruct you if you were to stay where you are the entire night."

"Oh,"she gasped. She took a step in, but hesitated before closing the door behind her. It was one of those pivotal moments in life, a "point of no return". By closing the door, not only was she signaling the beginning of her Occlumency lessons with Snape, but it also symbolized her shutting the door on Ron and choosing the man inside. Mixed into that was the budding awareness of her feelings towards Snape, brought on by Ron's accusation, and the apprehension of being alone, in a room, with a man.

She could feel his eyes on her, impatiently waiting for her to close the door and come to him. Quickly, she made her choice. It was simple, really. It all came down to one thing. _Did she trust the man?_ And the answer, resoundingly, was a yes.

So she closed the door and went to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. She watched him put away the papers he had been working on. He was very methodical. Finally, he sat back in his chair and turned his attentions to Hermione.

"I assume you have finished reading the books I assigned you?"

"Oh yes, I finished them a few days ago." She leaned over to pull them out of her school bag. "I made some notes, and I had a few questions about...."

"Please, Miss Granger. I will be the one with the questions." She blushed. She so wanted to impress him, but she kept muddling it up.

"How much did Mr. Potter tell you of his Occlumency lessons with me?"

"Well," she started, a little uncomfortable with the topic. "He said that Professor Dumbledore had ordered you to teach him Occlumency after last Christmas, because of what Vol-," she stopped, extra-sensitive to his reactions, "what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was starting to do to him."

"And what was that?"

"He was able to invade his dreams." She paused again because what she was about to say next was slightly disloyal towards Harry. "He tricked Harry into believing that he had Sirius in the Department of Mysteries." There was more to be said, but she did not want to go down that path, and, it seemed, neither did Snape for he chose then to change the subject.

"And did he describe to you the nature of the lessons themselves?"

She nodded. "He said that they consisted of you trying to, um, attack him with Legilimency while he tried to fend you off. Professor?" He sighed, knowing that if he didn't let her ask her question, he wouldn't be getting very far into the lesson.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"Why didn't you give him the books to read? I'm sure they would have helped. There were all sorts of exercises and theories in there that would have told him how to...."

"And when, pray tell, was the last time Mr. Potter voluntarily read a book that didn't concern Quidditch?"

"But I'm sure he would have read these, I mean, if only to...."

"Really, Miss Granger, if you persist in questioning my teaching methods, perhaps it would be better off if we stop right here." That shut her up straight away. It did not, however, stop her from glaring at him petulantly. In fact, her lower lip seemed to have protruded the slightest bit beyond her upper one. Could she possibly be _pouting_? At him? No student of his had _ever_ dared try that tactic with him. And, to his horror, it was working.

"Very well, if you must know, I had ascertained from previous experiences, that your Mr. Potter seemed to be able to grasp certain concepts more easily if he were to rely on his own instincts, instead of being _taught_ how to do them." Hermione considered this and realized that he was right: Harry's first time on a broomstick, resisting the Imperius curse, conjuring the Patronus.... It was part of the reason why she had called him "a great wizard" that first year, because of his ability to naturally do some of the things that she could only do after much reading and preparing. 

Snape seemed to be reading her thoughts as he continued, "You, on the other hand, need to understand all the theories and concepts behind a spell before you feel confident enough to cast it." And it was true. It was her deepest secret, actually. All the time spent in the library and studying wasn't so much to get ahead, but to research all she could find about what was on her syllabi so that when the time came round to actually perform the magic, she would be ready. All the other bits of information that she picked up along the way...well, she just happened to also have a very good memory. But somehow, Snape knew all this. 

_Well obviously_, she thought to herself a second later. _He's a very talented Legilimens_. She should be more surprised if there was something he _didn't_ know about her after five years of classes with him. And the fact that she had been staring directly into his eyes the last few minutes, unguarded. Immediately, she looked away. One of the eyeballs in the jars the lined the wall stared back at her, but it was preferable to looking at _him_.

"It is not all that surprising, given that you are, after all, Muggle born. And no, I did not mean that as an insult," he said, for she had briefly glared at him after he had said those words, before looking away again. "It is an inescapable fact, and it does play a part in the nature of your character. Do not forget, without your skills in logic, Mr. Potter would not have been able to get past my obstacle on the way to the Sorcerer's Stone." The comment seemed to placate her as she was no longer frowning, but she continued to avoid his eyes.

"Miss Granger, is it so much to ask that you look at me when I am addressing you? I can assure you, I will not be practicing Legilimency upon you tonight." That brought about the desired reaction, although he thought that she was probably more concerned about the adjourning of their lesson than obeying his wishes.

"But...I thought...you had agreed.…" 

"After all that you have read on the subject, do you really think that you are capable of performing Occlumency right now?" The harshness of his words belied the concern he had for her mental state, and he saw the hurt flash through her eyes before she could mask it. When she made no attempt to respond, he replied, "I thought as much." Instead of the usual pause to sneer that would otherwise have accompanied this pronouncement, he continued on. "No, I thought it would be more prudent to begin with you practicing Legilimency on me, especially since you will need to master the art yourself in order to teach Potter."

His decision greatly relieved Hermione. He _was _still going to teach her Occlumency, but just not today. She had been rather anxious about having to endure the same type of mind attacks that Harry had undergone, but her stubbornness had prevented her from backing out. If she didn't know any better, she would have suspected that he had foreseen this and adapted the lesson accordingly. But no, the professor was not one to coddle weaknesses. Especially in Gryffindors.

"You may proceed." He leaned back into his chair and placed both arms on the armrests while keeping eye contact with her. It was the most relaxed she had ever seen the man, and it galled her that he thought so little of her skill in Legilimency. After four repeated attempts however, she had to concede that perhaps he was right. His mind was as smooth as one of Trelawney's polished crystal balls. There were no cracks to be found, no footholds to clutch, there was just...nothing. Only the smirk on his lips told of what he was thinking. After the seventh try, she started thinking about giving up, but it wasn't until after the twelfth try that she actually did. She was shaking, completely worn out, while he still seemed completely at ease.

When the pause turned into a lengthy silence, he quirked one eyebrow and inquired if she was finished. She growled a "yes" before sinking back into her chair, exhausted.

"That was a miserable beginning, Miss Granger, worthy of Longbottom."

"I know," she groaned, too tired to defend her friend. "I just can't seem to...." As she pondered what she was doing wrong, she started chewing on her lower lip. It was a nervous habit, something she did unconsciously, but the tiny motion captivated Snape in a way that none of Pansy Parkinson's most brash attempts at lewdness could ever hope to. When she finally sat upright with a grin and shouted, "I've got it!" he found himself unprepared for what happened next. 

"_Legilimens!_"

He saw his mother lying on the ground, bruised and unconscious from one of his father's beatings.... He was waiting in line to be sorted, eyeing Sirius with jealousy because he too, wished to be sorted out of the house his family had been in for as long as they could remember.... He was at his Graduation ceremony, looking in vain for a familiar face to congratulate him in the crowd full of other graduates and their loving families, when he saw the unmistakable blonde head of Lucius Malfoy make its way towards him.... He was watching Potter try to stay on his broomstick even as he muttered the counterjinx when he first felt the warm licks of the flames eating his robes....

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed. He opened his eyes to find that he had fallen half out of his chair and that Hermione had already come around the desk and knelt down beside him. She reached out a hand to steady him.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have.... You weren't prepared...." He shook her hand off his shoulder and righted himself.

"Do not touch me again, Miss Granger. And kindly return to your seat. Now." He was grateful that she decided to obey him this time. He really hadn't expected her to be able to break through his shields. Apparently whatever she had figured out combined with his lack of focus had given her the opening she had needed. To be honest, it was probably his own fault, more than anything. But it was definitely going to be the end of tonight's lesson.

"I believe that is enough for now." To quell whatever thoughts of triumph she might have had, he went on. "I trust that I do not have to tell you not to speak of what you saw...."

"You know I won't!" she exclaimed. He knew she was speaking the truth and replied with a bare nod of the head.

"Then I charge you with the task of practicing on Mr. Potter. Do not attempt to instruct him in Occlumency, yet. The purpose of this exercise is for you to improve your Legilimency, not to lead him astray with what little you may think you know of its counter-magic. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then I will expect to see you here again next week at the same hour."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She knew a dismissal when she heard it and started packing up her bag. She rose and was about to leave when he called for her again.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Perhaps it would be safer if you used Mr. Potter's invisibility cloak the next time you come here, seeing as how the excuse I told Potter to give last year when he came for his lessons would not apply to you." She thought for a moment before she could remember what he was talking about. _Remedial Potions_. She almost smiled in amusement when she replied, "No, sir."

"I will ask Mr. Filch to escort you back to your rooms, this time. If you meet anybody along the way, you are to say that you were serving a detention with me." Unsaid was the fact that it would be unwise for her to be walking through the dungeon corridors at this time of night. 

"Thank you, sir," she replied, gratefully. He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared.

"Please find Mr. Filch and tell him that his presence is required at my office, straightaway."

"Yes, Professor." He cracked out of sight, leaving Hermione standing awkwardly by the door as she waited for Mr. Filch to come.

"Um, Professor?"

"What is it now?" he snapped.

"I was just wondering...." When it seemed like she was not going to continue, he sighed and encouraged her with a "Yes?"

Oh God, if this wasn't the bravest thing she had ever done. Braver than when she had lied about the troll, braver than when she had led Professor Umbridge and Harry into the Forbidden Forest last year....

"I was wondering if you would like to find out what a movie is."

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	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"All right, Harry. Just relax and try to clear your mind." The two of them were sitting on his bed, with the covers drawn and a _Silencio_ spell cast for privacy. They were facing each other, with Harry at the head and pile of pillows behind him. Spread out beside Hermione were the two books and her own journal for notes.

"Am I supposed to try to repel you?"

"Hmmm, I don't know. Why don't we start off with you not trying and build up from there?"

"All right." She wrote down the conditions of the first run. 

_1. Subject's mind – open_

_Start time – 8:14 pm_

"Are you ready?" He nodded. "All right then, on a count of three. One, two, three, _Legilimens!_"

It was amazing, really, the difference between trying to crack a willing mind and a closed mind. It was like sinking into a soft, warm wad of pudding. Instead of the fragmented scenes she had seen in Snape's mind, she was able to flow from memory to memory at her own pace. She saw a few which must have come from his days before Hogwarts; they mostly featured an overweight boy bullying him around. She skipped past these, a little uncomfortable at the thought of watching something that Harry so obviously hated.

She found his memories of Hogwarts and looked for the ones that she hadn't been around for. That included the first two months of their first year, the entire time she had been petrified in their second year, and the time during their third year when he had been mad at her for telling Professor McGonagall about his new broom.

It wasn't until she reached his memories of last December that she was kicked out of his brain. She opened her eyes and realized that she was lying down and staring at the top of his canopy.

"Oof, Harry, did you do that?" she asked as she sat back up. Apparently he had also suffered some backlash because he was also rubbing the back of his head.

"I...I think so. Dunno how though."

"Hmmm, well, we'll have to practice a few more runs and catalog whatever you remember." She reached for her notebook. "Hopefully we'll be able to see a pattern and then.… Oh, what time is it?"

"It's almost nine o'clock." She wrote that down along with all her observations. 

"All right, let's try it one more time, and this time, try to block me."

"Are you sure you can't tell me anything about how to do that?"

"Yes, Professor Snape said...."

"All right, all right. I've heard it already. You know, you seem to be thinking rather highly of what Snape says these days."

She attempted to give him her death stare #4, but eventually gave up because of the ridiculous look he had on his face.

"Come on, 'Mione. I was just kidding. It's just that Ron told me what happened when he followed you last night. I couldn't help it."

"Fine. Laugh all you want. See if I care if Voldemort catches you in your sleep again." She made to leave, but Harry grabbed her hand. He was completely serious now.

"No, don't go. Look, I'm sorry, all right? It's just...sometimes it gets so hard, you know? I need all the silliness I can get these days. I'm sorry if I offended you."

Hermione sighed. Harry was right. It had been a while since she had seen him laugh. And although it had been at her expense, it felt good to know that he was getting past Sirius' death.

"Fine. One more time then." She returned to her original position and raised her wand.

"Wait, before we get started.... I have to ask you, how much longer are you going to refuse to talk to Ron?" Hermione dropped her wand and frowned.

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

"_Hermione_." She groaned in response.

"Look, I know I should just forgive him, but it's just...it's more complicated than that. You don't understand how he made me feel down there. The things he said.... And the way he grabbed me.... It's just...I'm going to need some more time. To work things out."

Harry looked at her in pity. He wanted to help her and Ron, but whatever was going on within her was obviously more than he could handle.

"And don't look at me like that. I'll be fine." He didn't believe her for a moment, but he also knew that it would be better to just accept her assertion for the time being. 

"All right. Fine. Let's try this one more time then." He could see the relief pass through her face.

"All right. Are you ready?" He nodded.

"And don't forget to try and block me this time. One, two, three. _Legilimens!_"

She could tell that it was different this time. _Legilimency for Squibs_ had taught her the importance of visualization. She was supposed to imagine herself reaching out to him like a deluge of water, flowing and surrounding his mind, seeping into whatever cracks there were—for only the most skilled of Occlumens were able to completely shield their minds. Minds like Snape's. She was still reeling from the knowledge that she had been able to break into his mind. She had, of course, done exactly as the book had told her to do, but even she had to admit that after a dozen fruitless tries that that particular tactic was not going to work. Perhaps...perhaps what she needed to do was forget what the book said and just use her intuition, like Harry. 

So she had racked her mind for another image to use. It was when she remembered the Waterpik that her parents had recently been recommending her to use that she realized she had been using the right idea, but the wrong means. Water could not only find whatever unprotected crevices there were, but if there were none, a powerful, concentrated stream of the same could break its way through any obstacle. And that's what she had done with Snape; by focusing all her energies she had blasted through his defenses and accessed his memories. 

And oh, what she had seen. She was dying to ask him about his past, about his family, his time in Hogwarts, what had happened after the elder Malfoy approached him.... But then was not the time, and she could only hope that eventually, one day, she would be able to ask him, and he would tell her. 

As she focused on getting into Harry's mind, she felt the shields that he was trying to erect, but they were easily sidestepped. She decided to get back at his teasing her and looked specifically for his memory of the time he had been left alone in the Room of Requirement with Cho. She saw herself, Ron, and Marietta leaving, and then a tear-streaked Cho getting closer and closer to him. Their lips were just about to touch when she found herself hurtling backwards off the bed. She landed on the ground with a jolt and saw a surprised Neville looking down at her. 

"Oh, um, hi Neville." He was obviously trying his hardest _not_ to imagine what she could have been doing in Harry's bed that had ejected her out like that.

"What were you thinking, going _there_, Hermione?!" Harry's head popped through the curtains. "Oh, hi Neville." Neville took one look at Harry and then back down at Hermione before he ran out of the room with a squeak.

Hermione looked at Harry, who looked back at her. At the same time, they both started laughing.

"Oh my God, did you see his face?"

"He probably thought I meant...that you had...." Their laughter continued until their sides were hurting, and they could hardly catch their breaths.

"Do you think we should go down and explain?" asked Hermione as she got off of the floor.

"Probably, before he says something to Ron...or Ginny."

"Ginny? Why do you think _she_ would care?"

"Oh, um. Well...."

"I'm just teasing you, Harry. You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to." She tried her best to do an impression of Snape's arching eyebrow. Though she failed miserably, Harry still blushed.

"Well, um...that is...."

Just then, the girl in question burst into the room.

"What in bloody hell is going on?" she shouted, which only made Harry and Hermione burst into another round of laughter. When she realized that the other two were still fully clothed and obviously had _not_ been engaged in any licentious antics, she also started blushing furiously.

"Nothing happened," wheezed Hermione. "We were just...."

"We were just practicing Occlumency, and she...well...I...."

"Harry just responded a little more _violently_ than he probably should have...."

"What? You know you shouldn't have been prying...."

"Well, if you had been able to shield yourself properly...."

Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation. This could go on for hours.

"Harry, Hermione. Will you two please stop bickering?" They both turned to her with open mouths. "Look, it's getting late, and pretty soon the rest of your roommates are going to be coming up to sleep. You've already scared poor Neville off. Don't you think it's time to call it a night?"

Harry and Hermione both closed their mouths and looked at each other. "Sorry," they both mumbled.

"Good, now Hermione, come with me. Harry, go find Neville and explain to him what happened." They found themselves both obeying her commands without question. Hermione couldn't help but get the last word in on their way out, though. 

"And don't forget to practice clearing your mind before you go to sleep tonight, Harry."

***

But as she lay in bed an hour later, still awake, she found that she couldn't clear her mind of what had happened last night. The look on Snape's face after she had asked him about the movie was priceless. Unfortunately, Mr. Filch had chosen that exact moment to knock, causing her to jump away from the door.

"Come in." Was it just her, or did Snape's voice sound a little higher than usual?

"You asked for me, Professor Snape?" As Filch's eyes fell on Hermione, they gleamed. "Oh, and what did the Gryffindor prefect do now? Do you need her to serve a detention with me?" He was practically salivating with glee. After Professor Umbridge's departure, he had been extremely bitter about losing his punishment privileges, and blamed Hermione and Harry for what happened. To be able to punish her now....

Hermione had seen the sadistic glint in his eyes, but recognized it for something else. It was so similar to what she had seen in Draco's eyes. She took a step back reflexively as the terror built up in her. She looked to Snape for help. Immediately, Severus realized what was happening and berated himself for not anticipating this.

"No, Argus. Miss Granger has just finished serving her detention with me. I asked for you because I will be escorting her back to her dormitory, and I thought it would be best if you were to patrol the dungeons in my absence." 

Filch's face fell in disappointment. "Fine," he spat out. 

"Very well. Miss Granger, if you would?" He walked over to her, using his body to shield her from Filch. She stayed rooted in her spot, but after he put a hand on her back and prodded, she was able to move again. Just the sheer physical presence of him signaled safety to her brain. They left together, and she continued to walk with him in silence until they were almost at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He had kept his arm around her the entire time.

"I believe this is as far as I need to go," he said, finally dropping his hand. She turned to face him.

"Thank you," she said, letting her eyes say everything else she wanted to say. He stared into them perhaps a second longer than necessary before he bade her goodnight and left. She had followed the retreating form of the Potions Master until he turned the corner and was gone from sight.

She could still see him now, his robes swishing behind him as he walked away from her, and she could still feel his hand on the small of her back. She groaned in her bed. She was _not_ supposed to be feeling this way about her professor, especially not _Snape_! Besides, there was no way he would even be interested in her. A student. A Gryffindor. A Muggle born. But still, she could not shake off the way he had looked at her before he had turned away. As if she had held all the world had to offer before him, and all he had wanted was her. It was something she was not going to forget for as long as she lived.


	18. Chapter 18 Interlude

Chapter 18

_September 16, 1996_

_ Probably _the_ most bizarre thing _ever_ happened to me to me today. Severus Snape, of all people, sought me out to talk to me. Severus, who has never _once_, in the fifteen years he has taught here, spoken to me unless he absolutely had to. I use to think it was because of the subject I taught, since he, being the Head of Slytherin, would be expected to scorn Muggle Studies. But after speaking with some of my other colleagues, I realized that there _was_ no one else he ever talked to if he could help it. Muggles would not doubt call him _anti-social_._

_ But I digress. This is what happened: after the staff meeting this morning, Severus approached me and asked if he could speak to me. In my bewilderment, I looked to the other teachers in to see if any of them had a clue as to why he was suddenly talking to me. All I saw were the same looks of surprise and a few shrugs. I managed to stutter a reply in the affirmative and he suggested that we go to my office. I didn't think he knew I even _had_ an office._

_ Once there, he did not immediately take the seat I offered him, but roamed around the room, inspecting all the Muggle paraphernalia I had collected over the years. Usually, I happily offer to explain what the more puzzling objects are to any of the other professors that come by, but I must confess, I was too intimidated by him to volunteer any information. Not that he would have asked._

_ Of course, it turns out that I was wrong on that account, for when he finally did sit down and after I had offered him tea and we had dispensed with the usual small talk, this is what he said (it was so shocking, I have remembered it word for word, and need to write it down for fear I will wake up tomorrow and think it all a dream):_

"It has come to my attention that I am somewhat..._lacking_ in my knowledge of Muggle vocabulary, and I wondering if you would be so kind as to tell me, what exactly is a 'movie'?"

_I'm sure you can understand why I almost spat my tea out in surprise. Why would _he_ want to know about movies? As curious as I was, he did not offer the information, and I felt that if I had asked him, I would have lost whatever degree of respect the man might have had for me (although I probably already lost _that_ when the tea went up my nose, and I was reduced to coughing uncontrollably for a few moments until I could breath properly again)._

_ So I tried to explain to him as best I could what a movie was. The best description I could come up with was a full-length play that was captured on film like one of our magical photographs. Except that the images would be projected onto a much larger screen so that a large audience could pay to sit down and watch the play. He started muttering something about Pensieves while I was speaking. I swear, that man must have inhaled too many fumes while brewing his potions. And then, as if the situation could get any stranger, when I mentioned that many Muggles liked to go to the cinemas on "dates", all of a sudden he was the one choking on his tea. I cannot for the life of me imagine why. As if anyone would ever ask that old bat out on a date._

_ Finally, I lent him my copy of _The Wizard's Guide to Movies_, just to get him out of my office. He was really beginning to creep me out. Next thing you know, Gilderoy will be back from St. Mungo's with his memory fully restored and declare his undying love for me._


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

       "And how are the Occlumency lessons proceeding?"  After having known Albus Dumbledore for the last thirty odd years or so, Severus was not surprised that the headmaster knew of the private lessons he was giving Hermione.  In fact, he had been expecting the very question from him for quite a while now.

       "As you undoubtedly already know, we have only met together the one time.  The results of which were rather...interesting."

       "Oh?" inquired Dumbledore as he raised the teacup to his mouth.

       "Yes.  Since Miss Granger's intent for learning Occlumency is to be able to teach it to Potter himself, I had her practice Legilimency on me first."  Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with interest.

       "Albus, she was able to break through my barriers," said Severus with all seriousness in his voice.

       "I see.  And, was she able to see anything interesting?"

       "Albus!  I am _not_ in the mood for your brand of levity right now."  The force of his words caused Fawkes to jump slightly on his perch.  The bird glared at the Potions Master before returning to his preening.

       "Now, now, Severus.  As Miss Granger has not been back to the hospital wing since your lesson, I can only assume that whatever she _did_ see was innocuous enough.  Am I correct?"  

Snape conceded a barely comprehensible "Yes".  

       "Well then, I suppose the reason behind your outburst would be the fact that she was able to see anything at all."

       Severus considered the statement.  His reply surprised even himself.

       "No."

       "No?"

       "No, damn it.  You know as well as I do how clever and powerful of a witch Miss Granger is.  Even if she hadn't been able to succeed, it would only have been a matter of time before she did.  The problem is....  The problem is, Albus...."  Snape bowed his head in defeat.  The headmaster patiently and silently waited for him to continue.  

Slowly and softly, pacing a full breath between almost every other word, Severus confessed:  "I fear that I am becoming attached to the girl."  

       "And is that really such a bad thing, Severus?"  Although the words could have been taken as such, the tone of his voice told Severus that the headmaster was not joking again, for which he was profoundly grateful.  It would have been unbearable for him if his admission had been taken lightly by the old man.

       "How can you ask that of me, Albus?  You know who I am and what my life is like—how dangerous it would be for me to have any..._weaknesses_.  Hell, you bloody well _know_ how I feel about Potter and Gryffindors in general."

       "But not _this_ Gryffindor."  It was a statement, not a question.

       Severus sighed.  "No.  Not this Gryffindor."

       "Have you ever considered, Severus, that she might become a source of strength for you, instead of a weakness?"  The remark surprised Snape, and he looked up at Dumbledore askance.

       "What do you mean?"

       "I fear I have done you a great disservice, Severus, if you cannot comprehend the meaning of my words."  It was the headmaster's turn to sigh.  "I understand why you have thought it necessary to live a solitary life, but I have never agreed with it.  In fact, I have often wondered, if you had had more friends while you were a student here...."

       "That maybe I wouldn't have so readily joined with Voldemort?  Don't fool yourself Albus.  Who would have possibly wanted to be friends with me?  _Snivellus_."  He said the hated nickname with such venom that even James Potter would have considered apologizing for ever calling him that, if he only could have heard it.

Dumbledore decided it would be better to cut Severus off before he ventured any further down the darkness of memory lane and tried a different tactic.

       "And what of Miss Granger?  How do you perceive she feels about you?"  Again, Severus was slow to respond.

       "I believe...she is not entirely averse to the idea of befriending me."  His tone clearly implied that he could not imagine why she would ever do such a thing.

       "I see.  And I trust that your intentions towards her are also entirely platonic?"  A deep glare was the only response.  "I had to ask, my friend."  The headmaster's eyes were back to their twinkling selves.  "I am deeply honored that you chose to share this with me, Severus.  It has been my hope that for some time now that you would be able to find someone else with whom you would place the same amount of trust in.  To quote a great Muggle poet, 'No man is an island.'  Not even yourself."

       "It doesn't even rhyme," was the dry reply.

       "No, I suppose not.  But I assume you have recovered from your dark mood if you have taken to critiquing poetry."

       It was true.  While he hated the act of confession, to be able to share his fears with another person had given him a sense of freedom.  And to know that the headmaster was not only _not _disapproving but even condoning this particular relationship had also helped to relieve the burden in his heart.

       "Thank you, Albus, as always."  He allowed the warmth of his sincerity to surface in his voice.

       "You're very welcome, my child.  Oh, and Severus," he said as his Potions Master was leaving the room, "I do believe that it will be Miss Granger's birthday tomorrow."

       "I see.  Thank you for the information."

       After the door closed and the stone staircase rotated to let the man down, the paintings adorning the walls came to life as they voiced their opinions of what had just transpired in the room.  Dumbledore was grateful for the wisdom and advice his forerunners usually gave him, but even he had to admit that sometimes they were just a bit too nosy and opinionated for his own good.

***

       The next day was Saturday, and after the mid-morning brunch Ron asked if he could speak to Hermione in private.  She had maintained her silent treatment towards him for almost a full week now, but she had to admit that it was only her pride that had kept her going the last few days.  So it was with relief that she followed him outside the castle towards the lake.  

Despite his request and her own desire to start speaking with him again, they walked in silence at first.  It was another cool, crisp Scottish morning and the fog was just starting to rise from the lake.  Just the fact that they were walking together, side by side, with the comfortableness of silence between them spoke all the words they had intended to say.  But sometimes, words needed to be spoken.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Apology accepted," was the immediate response.  They were now sitting on top of the slope that ran down to the lake, both facing directly ahead.  Neither had looked at the other since leaving the castle.  Ron picked up a small rock and threw it into the water.  It bounced several times before disappearing under the surface.  They both watched the concentric rings from each bounce spread out and intersect.  It was so peaceful out there that they continued to just sit there in silence a while longer.

Finally, when the act of sitting still had chilled both of them considerably, they got up and returned to the castle.  Before entering, however, Ron suggested that they go visit Hagrid to which Hermione heartily agreed.  The two of them approached the hut, but just before reaching it, Ron slowed down to allow Hermione to go in first.

She knocked on the door and was surprised when it opened from her efforts.  Immediately she became suspicious.  Hagrid _never_ left his door unlocked.  She reached for her wand and opened the door wider, looking back at Ron and silently instructing him to do the same.  She took a cautious step in.  It was dark and before her eyes could adjust, she was suddenly blinded by a bright flash of light and assaulted by shouts of "Surprise!"  

"What the...!"  When her vision finally recovered itself, she saw that she was surrounded by the grinning faces of Hagrid, Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Ron, who was looking especially smug.  Hagrid was holding what appeared to be a cake in front of him.  Written in blue icing were the words, "Happy Birthday Hermione" and seventeen candles adorned the rest of the surface.  

"Were you surprised, Hermione?" asked the bright-eyed Ginny.

"Bloody hell.  You were all this close from being turned into toads.  No offense to Trevor, Neville."

"None taken."

"I hope you didn't mind too much, Hermione.  We just wanted to celebrate your birthday, but I know you don't like making a big deal of things so...."

"No, it's great, Harry.  Really.  Thanks everyone."

"Come on, Hermione.  Blow out the candles," insisted Ron.

"And don' ferget to make a wish," added Hagrid.

She looked at the cake, the candles, and then everyone around her.  A happiness filled her heart as she realized that everyone in the room was a loved one, someone who had been with her through the last five years (and in the case of Ginny, the last four) and with whom she had shared so much with.  She was grateful that they had chosen not to invite anyone else; after all that had happened in the last few weeks, she wasn't sure if she would be up for a larger, less intimate celebration.  As it was, there was only one other person she wished could have been there, and it was with that thought in mind that she blew out the candles.

***

       Later that day when she returned to her bedroom there was yet another birthday present waiting for her on her nightstand.  She had already received another month's supply of Chocolate Frogs from Ron, the latest edition of _Hogwarts, A History_ from Harry, a set of book plates that read "From the Library of Hermione Granger" from Ginny, and an ever-blooming pot of miniature roses from Neville.  Hagrid had contributed the cake, which they had left mostly uneaten.  Neville had been unlucky enough to take a bite before they had been able to warn him about Hagrid's considerable lack of baking skills.  Fortunately, Fang had been happy enough to eat the pieces of cake that they passed to him when Hagrid wasn't looking.

       Although there was no card attached to the outside of the black wrapped gift, she remembered the last time something had shown up on her nightstand without her placing it there, and a little seed of hope sprouted.  She carefully unwrapped the box, which was rectangular and flat, slightly larger than a deck of cards.

       Inside, beneath a layer of tissue paper, she uncovered what looked like the torn stub of a movie ticket.  _Was this his way of answering my question?_  If it was, it was certainly a puzzling way to do so.  She picked it up to examine it more closely.  A sudden jerk from behind her navel and the loss of ground beneath her feet followed.  Too late, she realized it had been a Portkey, and she still did not know who had given it to her, much less where she was going.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

She was still cursing her own stupidity when she unceremoniously dropped onto the ground a moment later. She scrambled to her feet immediately and pulled out her wand, just in case. There was someone standing in front of her, but because of the bright light shining through the open doorway behind the person, it was hard to tell who it was. She could definitely tell that it was a he from the silhouette. A tall, dark haired and large nosed he. They took a step forward and blocked the glaring sunlight with their body.

"Viktor!"

"Herm-own-ninny," replied the slouchy Quidditch player.

"Viktor," repeated Hermione, still in shock. "What are you doing here? What am _I_ doing here? Where are we?"

"I vanted to vish you a happy birthday."

"Yes, well, you could have just sent me a card." The Bulgarian shrugged.

"I haff not seen you in almost two years. It is a Saturday, no? You do not have any classes today."

"Yes, but...."

"I haff missed you. It has been too long." He took a step closer and smiled down at her. "You haff turned into a very beautiful voman," he said as he reached a hand out to her hair. She automatically took a step back.

"Please, don't. You don't know...."

"Vat is wrong?" A look of confusion settled on his face. Her body wanted to take another step back, but she made herself stand her ground. _This is Viktor. Only Viktor._ She fought for control of her pounding heart. _I cannot continue being scared of every male I meet._

"Herm-own-ninny?"

"It's all right, Viktor. I...I was just still shocked, that's all. You didn't answer my question. Where are we?" At this, he smiled.

"You remember how I told you that my team vas touring the vorld this year?" She nodded. "Come and look for yourself." He took her hand (it took all her self control not to flinch) and led her outside. Once she stepped out of the doorway and saw where she was, she gasped. They were standing on the roof of a building with nothing above or around them but the sky. There were other people, Muggles, she noted, walking around the edge of the platform, talking to each other and pointing into the distance. Most did not bother to notice her or Viktor, but one young girl took one look at her robes and pulled at her mother's arm to ask about them. Self-consciously, Hermione immediately divested herself of the black robes and stored her wand in her pocket. She carried the robes slung over her arm as if it were a trench coat.

"Where...?" she asked, looking to Viktor. He smiled again and tugged her forward.

"Come." He brought her to the edge and leaned against the guardrail. She looked down and felt her knees almost buckle under her. She grabbed onto Viktor's arm for support. He looked down at her in concern.

"You are not afraid of heights, are you?"

"N-no. Usually, that is. But I've never been _this_ high up before. Where are we?" He smiled, but still did not answer her question.

"I am sure you can figure it out for yourself." He knew how much she loved to solve puzzles and wanted to see how long it would take her to figure this one out.

She took a step back so that the view was not so dizzying but not so far back that she couldn't make out the scenery below. They were in the middle of a large metropolitan area cut through by a river. To the right was a large body of water and to the left she saw another building the same height as the one she was standing on, except it had a large antenna sticking up from it. The people around her were still speaking English. But with an accent. It sounded very...American. To confirm her suspicions, she looked up at the sky. The sun was definitely higher than it had been when she had left her room.

"Are you bloody out of your mind? You've taken me out of the country?" Viktor started to look worried.

"You do not like it?"

"It doesn't matter if I like it or not, Viktor. I'm still a student. A minor. I can't just go cavorting around the globe with you. I'll get in trouble. I'll...."

"I'm sorry, Herm-own-ninny," he said, trying to calm her down. "That vas not my intention. I only vanted to show you what it was like up here in the sky. I know you do not like flying on broomsticks."

She sighed. It was impossible to stay mad at someone who had so earnestly tried to please her. 

"Thank you, Viktor. But how am I supposed to return? My friends will be worried about me and start looking for me. I can't stay here."

"I haff another Portkey for your return, but it does not activate for another half hour."

"Oh," she said as she realized she was stuck here. Another question popped into her mind. "How did...?"

"Shhh. Let us enjoy the view for now. I vill answer your questions later." She complied and turned towards view again. It _was_ incredible, and much better than being on the back of a broom. Or a hippogriff or thestral for that matter. 

When she felt him put his arm around her, though, she quickly shrugged it off. 

"Stop. Please, don't."

"Vat is it? Is there someone else, Herm-own-ninny? Have you found a boyfriend?" She could tell he wasn't angry, just disappointed.

"No. No, it's just that...." She couldn't very well tell him _why_ she was feeling so uncomfortable at his touch. But his questions had made her think of Snape and gave her an idea. "There _is_ somebody else that I'm interested in, but I don't dare tell him."

"Vy not? Who is it?"

"I...I can't tell you. I'm sorry." And the look in her eyes told him that she truly was.

"It is all right. I understand. And I hope that you vill be happy. I am sure this person, whoever he is, vill be able to recognize how vonderful a voman you are." Hermione thought of Snape again and snorted.

"Somehow, I don't think he will."

Viktor brought a hand to her chin and tilted her face up so that she was looking straight into his eyes.

"You are a beautiful, brilliant vitch, Herm-own-ninny. I know the rest of the boys in your school could not see it two years ago, but I did. And you have only grown even more beautiful, and I'm sure, even more brilliant. Who can possibly resist you?"

Instead of finding comfort in his words, Hermione trembled. Could what he said be true? Was it _her_ fault that Draco had done what he did? She had never considered herself very attractive, but if what Viktor was saying was true.... _Get a grip, Granger. He's just trying to make you feel better. There's no way you're _that_ irresistible. Think about Ron and Harry. Well, not Ron. But Harry. And Neville. And...even Snape. _Yes, thinking of her unattainable Potions professor grounded her back to reality.

Viktor had felt her tense at his words, but when she looked back up at him there was nothing but gratefulness in her eyes.

"Thank you Viktor. That was very kind of you."

"You're velcome, _mil edna_. You know that I vill always speak the truth to you. Now, tell me about this man you are so interested in." Before she could voice her protestations, he continued. "You do not have to tell me _who_ he is, but surely you can tell me _why_ you are interested in him?" Hermione opened her mouth again to tell him no, but then closed it, realizing that what he said was true. There was also the added bonus that Viktor hardly knew who Snape was _and_ wasn't going to be speaking to any of her friends anytime soon, so she really _could_ speak freely about him. It was wonderful, to be able to share with someone else all the amazing things she was coming to understand about the man.

"Well, he's not exactly the easiest person to get to know; there's a lot about him that he doesn't exactly show to everyone around him. Because he can't." She realized how obtuse she was sounding, so she elaborated. "He's been hurt a lot in the past, and it's made him vulnerable. But he puts up this front...." At Viktor's confused look, she decided to start over again. "He's been down to the darkest of places, but was strong enough to come back up. He's suffered more than I can imagine, and yet somehow he continues to endure it. He's self-sacrificing, brave, and the most intelligent man I know."

"Herm-own-ninny, did you just describe a man or a myth?"

She had to giggle. "Oh, he's real enough. But now you see why I like him so." She had been leaning forward on the railing with her arms crossed, looking into the distance as she described Severus, but now she turned and looked at Krum. "You know, he kind of reminds me of you. I mean, you both have similar features." They both blushed at that, she because of the verbal _faux pas _she had made, and he because he knew why she had made it. To cover their mutual embarrassment, he changed the subject.

"You vill have to write to me more often now and tell me vat happens between you and this mystery man of yours."

"Viktor!" She knew he was teasing her and swatted at his arm. He was happy to see her smile, but after a glance at his watch, he grew serious again.

"Come, it is almost time." He led her back into what she now realized was the emergency stairwell. "No one vill see you disappear in here."

"Wait," she said as he handed her the other half of the ticket stub, "how did you get first Portkey onto my nightstand?" But it was too late. Again, she felt the familiar tug at her navel. Her last thought before she disappeared was that she had also forgotten to ask him where this Portkey would take her.

***

Of course. She should have guessed. The Quidditch pitch. It was lucky for her it wasn't a game day, but then, Viktor had probably foreseen that possibility. She put her robes back on and made her way back to her dormitory, hoping no one had noticed her absence.

Her hope had been in vain. When she entered her common room it was to find almost all of Gryffindor crowded around the six central figures of Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Harry, Ron, and Ginny. _Snape! What was _he_ doing there?_ It was the first time she had seen either him or Dumbledore in their common room, and the tableau they presented only confused her even more. McGonagall was questioning her three friends while Snape was alternately pacing the floors and jumping in to bark at Harry or Ron. The two boys looked scared but bewildered. Ginny was trying to get to get either authorities' attention and finally resorted to shouting, "BUT I _KNOW_ WHERE SHE IS!" Everyone stopped then and turned to look at the youngest Weasley. Everyone, that is, except for Dumbledore, who was looking directly at her. Before Ginny could elaborate, the headmaster spoke up.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley, but I believe that your assistance is no longer necessary." Snape gaped at the old man before turning to look where he was looking. At the sight of Miss Granger, apparently safe and unharmed, his breath caught in his throat. The next second he was storming towards her, and her eyes widened at the fury on his face.

"Where have you been?! How could you disappear...."

Professor McGonagall was fast enough to intercept him.

"Professor Snape, now that the girl has returned, perhaps it is time that you returned to your own house." He looked around at all the gaping Gryffindors as if he suddenly realized they were there. Fortunately, Dumbledore came to his rescue.

"Come, Professor, I believe the good Professor McGonagall is right. Why don't we leave the situation in her more than capable hands?" He led the Head of Slytherin out of the Gryffindor common room. But just before he disappeared behind the portrait door, he turned around and winked. The entire house erupted into giggles and whispering. It took three tries before McGonagall could be heard above the din.

"Children, back to your rooms. There is to be no more talk of what happened." She knew her command would be useless, but she had to try, regardless. "Miss Granger and Miss Weasley, stay here with me. And no, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, that does not mean you may stay too. Now leave us." At her words, the entire common room emptied itself until only the three women were left.

"Now, Miss Weasley, I understand you had prior knowledge of Miss Granger's disappearance?"

"I...."

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" interrupted Hermione. Ginny looked at her and then back at the stern glare of Professor McGonagall before continuing.

"I received an owl from Viktor Krum earlier this week, ma'am. He wanted to surprise Hermione with a special birthday present. And so I left it for her on her nightstand. I didn't know what it was, but when I saw the opened gift box I...."

"So _that's_ how it got there...." Hermione instantly regretted speaking up as it brought her professor's full attention to her.

"Miss Granger, do you understand how much trouble you are in right now?" snapped McGonagall. "Now explain where you have been for the last hour."

"But it wasn't my fault, Professor. I didn't know whom the present was from. I thought...." _Better not say whom you thought it was from_. "I opened the box," she started again, "and all I saw was this." She held up the torn piece of paper. It wasn't the same one that had been in the box, but it was close enough. "When I touched it, it turned out to be a Portkey." This news elicited gasps from both Ginny and McGonagall.

"Do you know how dangerous...."

"But I didn't know! Anyways, I'm safe, and that's all that really matters, isn't it?"

"But where did you go?" asked Ginny, too curious not to ask. McGonagall realized she probably should have scolded the Weasley girl, but was also much too curious about the apparent romantic gesture to say anything.

"Well...." Hermione hesitated. "He took me to the top of one of the Twin Towers." Two more gasps.

"But that's...."

"Are you telling me he transported you all the way to America? To New York City?" Hermione nodded sheepishly.

"Wow," sighed Ginny, dreamily.

"Hmph," snorted McGonagall. "Well you can tell your beau that the next time he wants to give you a present...."

"He's not my beau," insisted Hermione. McGonagall responded with a dubious look.

"In any case, there will be no more Portkeys from him, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." 

"I will _not_ have any more of my students disappearing on me. And to think, it was Professor Snape who discovered that you were missing. How am I ever going to show my face to him again? Miss Weasley, after your own disappearance during your first year, I would have expected you to come straight to us with what you knew."

"I'm sorry, Professor." Professor McGonagall held her glance of disappointment on the two of them a second longer before sighing.

"Well, what's done is done. But to make sure you both have learned your lessons, that will be ten points from each of you for reckless behavior."

"Yes, ma'am," they both replied, grateful that more drastic measures had not been taken. Their Head of House looked up the staircase at all the slightly open doors.

"You may all come down now. We are finished here." The doors opened slowly, but the students spilled out quickly as soon as the professor left.

"Hermione! What happened?" asked a second year girl.

"Was it really from Viktor Krum?"

"Did the two of you kiss?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. It would be a long afternoon.


End file.
